Amazing X-Men Volume 1: The Origin Era
by Goggindowner
Summary: It is a dawning of a new age of man. The next step in human evolution has resulted in the rise of the mutants. This first volume, set during the late 1950's and early 1960's, tells the story of the founding of the X-Men, from conception, to recruitment, to a divide between it's two figureheads that will shape the conflict between those striving for peace, and those prepared for war
1. Part 1: Revelations (November 1957)

November Second. Nineteen fifty-five. That was the day that everything changed for me. That was the day that I met Erick Lansheer, and that was the day that I knew for certain that I wasn't alone in the world.

My name is Charles Xavier, born with the uncanny ability to read and control the thoughts and minds of others. In the twenty-seven years it took me to meet Erick, I had been to war, I had known love, and I had known heartbreak and loss. I had lived a life up to that point, but there had always been something missing I was never able to put a finger on directly. In that fateful moment, it had all become clear. Regardless of how much money or education or notoriety I ever achieved, I had never belonged anywhere.

Erick was like me, born with a unique gift that set him apart from the rest of humanity. In his case, he had been blessed with the ability to manipulate and control magnetic fields to various effects. His life, unlike mine, had been one of absolute tragedy. He lost his family to the Nazi camps of World War Two and had bounced around Europe, a lost and wandering soul ever since. He never spoke much about his past, but every once in awhile I would catch a stray thought and could piece parts of it together. I had decided years ago to not pry into the privacy of other's minds, but sometimes they projected a little too loudly to not hear.

In the two years since meeting, Erick and I have become like brothers. I love him as much as any other person in this world with the exception of Moira, who may well be the greatest love of my life. Moira had met working at Columbia, where I was a Professor of Anthropology and she a graduate student in the field of genetics. Moira Kinross was a fiery Scottish woman. She was unlike anyone I had ever met, and I couldn't imagine not having her in my life.

And so here I find myself in the den of my Manhattan brownstone, a stiff oolong tea in my cup and a thousand questions racing through my mind. Erick and Moira sit in silence, though their thoughts are of a very different nature. Erick and I share a quick glance, both of us excited by the possibilities of what we have just learned. On the table sits a publication that has shaken the very foundation of my world to it's core. I glance at the stack of papers again, running through their contents again in my mind as I reread the cover page.

"Human Genetics and Evolution Through Mutation"

By Nathaniel Essex

"Do ya realise what this means, Charles?" Moira finally says. "If Essex is right, if there is a potential for this kind'o mutation in humanity, do ya see the possibilities? It could open up the field'o genetics in ways we never imagined."

"It certainly raises many questions," I managed to respond, glancing again at Erick as he sits in silent contemplation.

I quickly glance at my watch; eleven o'clock. "Questions for another day, I'm afraid," I comment as I send a gental suggestion to Moira that it's time to wrap up the evening. I must speak with Erick alone.

Moira is suddenly stricken with urgency. "Good lord, it's later'n ah thought. Ah'v got an early lecture in the mornin'."

Erick and I both stand to see her to the door. We quickly say our goodbyes, kiss goodnight, and she is gone. I can feel the judgement oozing from Erick.

"You still haven't told her, have you?" he asks me, picking the publication up and thumbing through it again. "This is a woman you claim to love, yet you hide so much of yourself from her."

"For her own good, and you know it. Must we have this conversation again, Erick?" My eyes fall on the newspaper on the table that had been covered. The headline is something about a missing Egyptologist. I quickly dismiss it.

"Her good, or yours Charles? Are you afraid to embrace what you are? Even now that we are so certain to not be the only two? That we aren't the only mutants in the world?"

I recoil at the term. Until now, there had never been a name for what I was, and the term "mutant" felt awfully loaded. "So you accept these findings?"

"We are the living proof of what this Dr. Essex is theorizing. Imagine it, Charles. You and I stand at the forefront of the next step in human evolution," Erick says, a flash of something going across his face as the words leave his mouth. "We are the future of humanity."

A very uneasy feeling wrenches at my gut as I ponder those words. If Essex and Erick are correct, then it means that normal human beings are being replaced by a more advanced species. I know in my heart that once this is common knowledge, it could be a very volatile situation.

"Best not to get ahead of ourselves, my friend," I say, taking another sip of oolong from my cup. "I think this Nathaniel Essex has a lot of questions he needs to answer. We should speak with him before jumping to any conclusions."

Erick plops down on the couch, running his hand through his hair. Something has him worried, but he seems reluctant to share his feelings.

"Tell me," I say.

He sighs deeply. "Charles, I have seen first hand what humanity is capable of. The horrors they are willing to inflict upon each other. If this is true, if we are the future, imagine what they might do to us." Suddenly his tone shifts and eyes narrow. "At least, what they might TRY to do to us."

* * *

I spend the next several weeks trying to locate Nathaniel Essex through my contacts in the Columbia Genetics department. Most of them are familiar with his work, but none of them have ever actually met him or know much about him, personally. Finally, through a friend of a friend of a colleague, I learn that the last anyone had known, Essex was working out of a research lab in Seattle, but it had been months since anyone there had heard from him, either.

After sharing this information with Erick, we quickly charter a plane and make arrangements for a trip. Moira protests at being left out, but I easily convince her, without the use of my powers, that an Anthropology convention would be terribly boring and that I would only be gone for a day or two. I neglect to inform her that Erick is going with me. It kills me to lie to her so much, but until I know what all of this means, it's best to keep her in the dark.

Seattle in November is a rainy and overcast place, which is the first thing I notice as I step off the airplane onto the tarmak. Before Erick and I can make it into the hangar we are drenched, much to the amusement of the employees. No one says anything, but I can hear their thoughts like a radio broadcast.

After a quick stop at our hotel, we arrive at the research center Essex last worked at, The Savat Center. A young blonde is seated behind the reception desk as we enter the lobby. "Good morning, sirs," she chirps as we approach.

"Good morning, dear," I respond, shaking the collected rainwater from my coat. "My associate and I have an appointment with Dr. Essex, I wonder if you couldn't let him know we are here."

"Well there must be some kind of mixup, sir. Dr. Essex hasn't been in the office for months."

I project my thoughts into the young girl's mind, convincing her to agree with me. "I must have misunderstood, dear. I wonder if he meant his residence, then. Could you give me the address of where Dr. Essex is staying?"

The girl starts to refuse for a brief second, then complies. "Sure, give me just a minute," she says, then disappears around a corner.

I turn, watching the various people moving in and out of the lobby area. "I don't like using my abilities like this, Erick."

"It's necessary, Charles," is all he says. Part me knows he is right, but I can't help but feel regret for manipulating someone's thoughts and actions.

The girl returns to the desk with a note in her hand. "Here you go, sir," she says as she hands it across the counter to me. "Looks like a rental house in Ravenna."

"Thank you, dear," I say as I wipe our faces from her memory.

"Ravenna isn't far from here" I tell Erick as I flip through the folding map I purchased before we left the airport. "If we hurry we can be there before it gets dark."

The drive to Ravenna takes us the better part of hour thanks to traffic, but we do finally reach the neighborhood, our cab pulling to a stop in front of the house indicated on the note. The windows are dark, the yard is unkempt, and the mailbox is overflowing. It doesn't look like anyone has lived here in at least a few months.

"Now what?" Erick asks, his frustration obvious.

"Hey, you guys getting out or what?" the cabby says forcefully.

"Just a moment," I say as I reach my mind into the house searching for an inhabitant. I can't feel a conscious mind, but something in the house doesn't feel quite right. It's something I've not ever felt before. Almost like a very dim light of thought in a void, but it isn't strong enough to a human being. Then I feel another just like it. "Yes, we'll be getting out."

As the cab drives off I measure our surroundings. The houses up and down the street are all typical in appearance with what appears to be typical people going about their lives. The sun is beginning to set now and people are arriving home from their day.

"Something strange is going on in that house."

"What do you mean strange, Charles?"

"It's almost as if something is….distorting the brainwaves of the people in the house. I can sense them, but they are dull and hazy. It's difficult to explain."

Suddenly a mind lights up like a blaze inside the house and I am almost stunned by it's presence. I prod it gently as we approach the front door.

"Wait," I say. "It's him. It's Essex. He just appeared out of nowhere."

"Is it not possible he is a mutant, as well? Perhaps that's what you are experiencing."

"No, his brainwaves are unlike yours or mine. He is human. As best I can tell, anyway."

Erick reaches out and knocks on the door and I feel Essex's mind burst with fear. His thoughts immediately go to destroying something in the basement. I open my mind and realize that the two weak signals I am feeling are located in the basement.

I quickly reach out to Essex's mind to stop him, but I can't get a hold of him. He is there, shining like a beacon, but I can't get ahold of him.

"Erick, quickly! I believe he has captives he's about to kill and I can't stop him!"

There is a sudden sound of groaning metal and crackling wood as Erick rips the door from the frame by the hinges and knob. It explodes backwards into the yard, barely missing me. Splinters of wood scatter everywhere.

Without hesitation Erick takes off into the house. I do my best to project Essex's location directly into his mind and follow behind him a few steps. There is a loud sound of a metal door slamming shut and suddenly Essex's mind becomes as hazy as the other two had been.

"Hurry!" I shout, both outloud and directly into Erick's mind.

There is another groan of metal as Erick rips at the metal door. With a loud pop the door bursts from its hinges, followed by a loud crashing sound of metal on metal. Sparks and small electrical pops erupt from something and a man screams in agony.

I arrive in the basement to a grizzly scene. The metal door had been at the foot of the staircase that led to the basement, but now there was just a splintered hole. Inside the basement, Erick stands in the center of what I could only describe as a dungeon. The door is pressed against the far wall with Essex pinned between it and some type of console. To the right are two cages, one with a young boy lying on a table and the other inhabited by a slightly older boy who is upright. The two signals. Neither of them could possibly be older than fifteen.

"You have to help us!" the older boy shouts. "That nutjob's had us trapped down here for days!"

I scan his mind. Scott is his name. I dig a bit deeper and find the name of the other boy. It's his younger brother, Alex. Now that I can read their brainwaves more clearly, it is obvious to me that both boys are mutants.

"Don't worry, Scott, we are going to get you out of here. Erick?"

Erick rips the cage doors open, then looks back at Essex. "What have you been doing to these children?" he demands.

"They aren't just children, they're much more than that! You've ruined ten years of work, you monsters! Ten years of planning," Essex says as he tries to free himself.

Erick pushes the door against him harder, and I'm pretty sure I hear something in Essex's lower body break. He screams to confirm my suspicions.

"You discover the next phase in your evolution, and the first thing you do is experiment on it?" Erick says as two bars rip free from the cage wall. "No, your planning days are over."

Before I can react, the two bars fly into Essex, impaling him through the chest and driving through him into the console. Sparks leap from the console as its power finally gives out, Essex's body goes limp. I haven't seen death up close since Korea. It takes me a minute to compose myself.

There is suddenly a low hiss coming from the opposite side of the basement, where a large what appears to be a containment device sits at an angle against the wall, almost as if it were propped there. Steam billows from its middle seam and it cracks open less than an inch. An overpowering consciousness pours from the device. Something is alive in there, and whatever it is incredibly powerful.

"Erick, we need to get these children out of here now," I say, pulling Alex from the table in his cage. "Scott, get to the street! Hurry!" I push him mentally to get himself to safety.

The containment device slowly swings open as we move towards the door. A man plops to the floor on his hands and knees surrounding by smoke. His eyes glow green with some kind of energy as his skin begins to crack and turn grey. A slow moan rises from within him, moving from human to something else entirely.

"Charles, can you shut him down?" Erick asks as we move up the stairs.

"No, there is too much energy, I can't get a clear grasp on his mind."

"That doctor did something to him. He used my brother's blood and did something to him. His name's Ahmet. He was nice," Scott says to us as we move through the house. Green energy begins creeping through the floorboards as we move through the living area headed for the door.

As we crash down the steps into the yard, I feel like I can finally catch my breath. I turn back to the house, waiting to see what will happen, but nothing does. The energy dies down and the soft glow that had begun to fill it seems to vanish. Then the ground begins to shake, the pavement splits straight down the middle of the street. Much to my shock, a massive hand erupts from the ground, easily the size of my entire body, followed by a head and shoulders. Within seconds this massive being has ripped itself free of the ground and lumbers over us, nearly thirty or forty feet tall.

The creature looks at us for a moment, then the glow behind his eyes begins to build. I sense at the last possible second what is about to happen.

"Move!" I shout as I shove Scott to one side. Erick leaps in the opposite direction. I manage to move myself and Alex just enough. A blast of energy scorches the ground where we had been, arcing upwards and coming to a stop just as it tears the front porch of Essex's house to splinters.

Without warning, Scott stands and turns to face the beast. He strains for a moment as the giant trods towards him.

"Scott, get away from there!" I shout. "Run, child!"

Then it happens. A beam of pure red energy leaps from the boy's face, striking the giant in the left shoulder and knocking him off balance. The monster stumbles but regains its footing before it falls backwards into the hole it left in the ground. Another blast erupts from Scott, this time striking solidly in the chest. However, the beast leans into the blast and is unfazed. Exhausted, Scott relenquises his attack and begins to backpedal. I can feel the fear and grief rising in the boy. I can feel his concern for his brother Alex at the forefront of his mind.

I pry into Alex's mind briefly, pushing him back to consciousness. I can tell that he hasn't realized his mutant powers yet, but somehow Essex had known and used him for some purpose. As he wakes, I do my best to see if he knows this purpose, but I can't find it.

A car door slams into the giant, flung by Erick. "Get them to safety, Charles! I will draw its attention away from you." Another car door flies towards the giant, but this one is swatted away. The beast turns towards Erick as Alex comes completely two in my arms.

"Scott?" he says with a dry mouth. "Where's Scott?"

"I'm right here, it's okay. This guy saved us from that doctor. I think he's like me, Alex. I think he's here to help." I am taken aback by this young boy.

Alex's eyes finally come to rest on the behemoth swatting away car parts as it tries to get at Erick. It unleashes yet another energy blast which Erick just manages to deflect with the hood of a Buick. I feel the absolute terror erupt from the boy, then something else. Almost like an awakening. Something building inside of him rapidly. It occurs to me that this may be what it feels like when a mutant's abilities manifest themselves.

White spheres of energy suddenly begin collecting themselves around Alex, growing at an ever increasing rate. He screams in agony as the energy swells. He's completely lost control, his powers building like an avalanche. I try to reach into his mind to help him, but I experience the same interference as I did from the giant. I can't get through it.

"Back up," I tell Scott, placing a hand across his chest as I gently move away from Alex. "Has this ever happened before?"

"No," he stammers. "Does this mean that….is he like me too?"

The beast fires another blast at Erick, this time striking him hard enough to send him backwards several feet into a pile in the grass. Then it turns to face Alex, a wash of agony spreading across its face. It falls to its knees, clutching its head as it continues to scream. It is weakening, seemingly as a result of Alex's powers building.

Finally, Alex unleashes every bit of energy he had absorbed into a massive beam that strikes the giant, the yard, the neighbor's house, and several feet of street and sidewalk. For a moment, everything goes white. I shield my eyes, certain that I will go blind if I don't.

When the whiteness fades, Alex is lying face down in the grass. I scan him quickly to make sure he is alive. He is. In a direct cone going outward from him, everything is ruined. The grass is scorched, the sidewalk and pavement cracked and broken, and in the center of this devastation kneels the giant. Only now it isn't so giant. It's skin is blackened and cracked, its eyes are no longer glowing, and it stands only about ten feet tall. Smoke billows off of his more charred places.

"Help me," it says, almost sounding human again. "Help me. Please."

I reach out for his mind, finding it this time. Whatever had prevented me from reading him before was gone. I can feel his power falling. I can feel his life force fading.

"We will help you," I say directly into his mind. "That is why we are here."

Suddenly a car door slams into the man's head, crushing it. Blood and gore splatter across the grass as he collapses into a heap beneath the metal object. My mind recoils at being connected to him at the moment of his death. It isn't the first time I have experienced this, but it is always a very difficult thing to handle.

I look at Erick in horror. "Why? He was done. He needed our help, Erick!"

" I have given him the help he needed, Charles. Whatever Essex did to him turned him into a monster. I wouldn't allow one of our brothers to live that way."

"Brothers?" I gasped, still feeling the effects of the stranger's death. "What do you mean, brothers?"

"Our brotherhood of mutants, Charles."

* * *

There had been dozens of witnesses to the events in Seattle, and it had been no easy task getting out of the city safely in the aftermath. The city had gone into a panic as words like "mutant" and "menace" began being recited in the news. We had stayed in our hotel that night so as to avoid suspicion and made a hasty exit early the following morning.

Once we returned to New York I was able to put up young Scott and Alex Summers in the extra bedrooms of my brownstone. Scott had told me of what happened to his parents. His father was a retired pilot who enjoyed taking his family on recreational flights across the northeast wilderness. One trip had gone very badly, and only Scott and Alex had survived the crash by jumping from the plane with the only parachute. They had bounced around the Washington State system for several years before Essex had found them. Their bond was strong, no doubt due to the experiences they had shared at such a young age.

Alex's condition had improved, but he seemed to have no ability to control his powers. He constantly absorbed some sort of energy. It is entirely possible that the manifestation of his abilities at such a young age had negatively impacted his control, but there was no way to be certain. My only choice was to try and keep him docile, as he seemed to absorb less energy when he was asleep or barely conscious.

Erick and I had done our best to quickly rummage through Essex's lab. The only useful thing we had found were a few detailed files about other mutants he had been aware of. A boy just outside of Chicago and another in Centerport, about two hours outside of New York City.

I knew that our current situation was, at best, temporary. The Summers brothers had nowhere to go, and I had made arrangements to have them put under my custody, which had taken a good deal of mental manipulation, something that seemed to be happening more and more in my life these days. I began to fear that now, with mutants being known to the public, there would start to be more and more need to help them.

With that idea in mind, I told Erick about my family home in Westchester in Upstate New York. It was a sprawling mansion that had sat empty for years since my step father died and I had gone off to war in Korea with my step brother. It had everything we would need, especially space, but there was still one thing that I would have to do before moving.

The Golden Cafe is Moira's favorite coffee shop in the city, so I invite her there as I have so many times before. As she sits down across from at our patio table, a well of dread builds up inside of me. I have put this off for so long. In fact, I had hoped to never do this, at all, but now I have no choice.

"Charles, why do ye look so glum?" she asks as the settles into her seat. "Did the conference not go well?"

Snow begins to lightly fall. I've been back in the city for two days, but this is the first time I've seen her. Her red hair stands out against the grey of the oncoming winter. Little flakes of snow collect on it.

"Charles, what is it?" she presses.

"Moira, there is something that I have to tell you, and I'm not sure how you are going to take it," I manage, trying to find the words.

"Are you in some kind'o trouble, love?"

"Potentially, but not directly. Moira, I didn't go to a conference in Seattle."

I gather my courage, and send the rest of my sentence directly to her mind. "But I was in Seattle."

A look of shock leaps to her face. She goes white.

"Charles, how did ye…...what are ye sayin', Charles?" she stammers.

"I have been hiding something from you since the day we met. I have the ability to…," I pause, then continue,"I can read and control the minds of others, Moira. I've been able to do it since I was thirteen years old."

"Are ye sayin'..." she trails off.

"Yes, Moira, I'm a mutant. One of the first, it would seem, but not the only one."

She sits silently, staring at the table. She can't seem to bring herself to make eye contact with me, and my heart aches at what I am doing to her.

"I want you to understand, I have always done my best to keep out of your thoughts and mind, but sometimes it isn't so easy. Sometimes your thoughts, are so...loud, and-"

"Stop it, Charles," she cuts me off. "That terrible business in Seattle. Where ye involved in that? Was that you?"

"Yes. I had hoped to speak with Nathaniel Essex. To learn what he knew about mutation. But what we found was monstrous, and the situation got out of control. It is regrettable."

"Regrettable?" she bellows. "A man died, and you call it regrettable?"

"This doesn't have to change anything between us, Moira. I still love you, and I know you still love me. I'm still Charles Xavier, the same man you have known for the past three years. I still very much want to spend the rest of my life with you. My abilities don't change any of that."

Tears begin streaming down her face and I know what is about to happen. I know what she is going to say, possibly even before she does. She stands up from the table and wipes her face with her gloved hand.

"Oh, Charles, it changes everything."

She grabs up her things and quickly walks away down the street. "I'm sorry," she says. I don't follow her, despite how much I want to. At this moment, all I can do is hope that she finds her way back to me someday.

EPILOGUE

His entire body aches as he comes to. A groan of agony escapes him as he tries in vain to move. The last thing he can remember is the sharp pains in his chest from the bars. The bones in his leg and hip breaking. He feels as if he has died, but somehow been reborn into a world of pain and suffering. He feels every bit of it, only now he doesn't die. He lives on in his torment.

"Essex, you have failed me," a voice says out of the darkness.

"Mah….m-m-m-master?" Essex manages through his pain. "Is that you?"

"Yes," the voice says, laying a grey, withered hand on Essex's shoulder. It is cold to the touch, almost like something long dead.

"You have saved me even though I failed you? Does this mean you'll give me another chance? A chance to set things right?"

The hand lifts from him and retreats back into the shadows. "I will spare you your death this time. I must sleep soon, and I need you to carry on my work. To make sure things are ready for my return."

Tears well up and stream from the corners of Essex's eyes. A brief smile stretches across his battered face.

"Thank you, master. I swear, I won't fail you again."

"Do not thank me yet, fool. I will save you, but in the end you may well wish I hadn't."

To Be Continued…


	2. Part 2: Chasing a Dream (December 1957)

The streets of Alphabet City wafts with the smells of frying pork and sazon. It's been several months since I've been here to see Erick Lansheer. His small apartment rarely played host to our get togethers as my brownstone was a much more suitable location. The sidewalks are packed with bustling people. I can hear people thinking in half a dozen different languages. The diversity of Alphabet City has always been a source of inspiration to me. Groups of people, living almost right on top of one another, co-existing and making the most of what they have.

Erick's apartment is on the third floor of a rundown building on Avenue D just above a low end clothing store. I've not seen him a few weeks, not since the night we returned from our fateful trip to Seattle. We had gotten into quite the screaming match, Erick arguing that his actions had been justified and necessary. I, on the other hand, could not condone killing Ahmet Abdol, whose identity we had only learned from the news.

Despite how our last conversation ended, I need Erick now more than ever. In many ways, his co-operation with what comes next in my plans is essential. I convince myself that's the truth even as I approach his door. I scan quickly, he's home. I hesitate for a moment, then knock.

The doorknob twists and swings open, Erick moving it with his magnetic powers.

"Hello, Charles," he says, not leaving whatever it is he is doing at his small kitchen table. He is flipping through a stack of newspapers. I'm sure this isn't going to go well.

"Erick," I retort, closing the door behind me as I enter the apartment. "I had hoped we could settle our dispute, old friend."

I sit down on an old couch in a cramped living room as Erick grabs up his stack of papers and moves towards me. He flings them down into my lap, startling me.

"Read them," he says, taking a seat in a chair across from me. "Read those reports and tell me you still don't agree with me."

"In the weeks since Seattle, there have been ten confirmed reports of mutants across the country. Nearly half of them ended up being killed, one by her own parents, Charles," he continues as I slowly flip through the stack of papers, seeing the words menace and plague repeated over and over in the headlines. "They see us as a disease."

I toss the papers to the side. I have seen all of these stories. Read each one a dozen times. The heartache twists my insides again, just as it did every time I read them before.

"They are afraid, Erick."

"As well they should be. They have declared war on our kind," he scowls. I can feel his anger rising, feel the memories of his time in Auschwitz popping up to the surface. "Declared war on their betters."

"These stories are tragic, I agree, but responding in kind will only make things worse. We must show them a better way. If you truly believe us to be their betters, then we need to act as such." He scoffs at the notion.

Erick stands and paces a few times, then comes to a stop in front of his living room window. For a few moments, he just stares in silence. I pry just a bit, trying to gauge his thoughts, but he is so conflicted on what to do I can't pull anything specific from them.

"I've seen all of this play out before, Charles. If we do nothing, it ends with us in chains, numbers seared into our flesh and ready for the gas chambers. I won't relive that, no matter what it costs me."

"Will you at least hear me out, then? Give me a chance to convince you to join me," I plead, just hoping he'll at least listen.

"If you want me to join you there wouldn't be anything I could do to stop you," he says, not turning away from the window. My stomach sinks at the idea.

"I would never do that, Erick. I need you to be my willing partner in this, not a puppet."

"Talk, Charles. Tell me what you have planned."

With a sigh of relief, I lay it all out for him. I tell him of my plans to convert my family home in Westchester into a school for mutants. A place where they can learn to control their powers without fear of persecution or violence. A safe haven. I explain how these students will become ambassadors of peace and coexistence between humans and mutants. Give them the tools to make a real, lasting difference in the world.

It's several minutes before Erick says anything. I clamp down on my mind as tightly as I can. I want to be sure that my abilities don't sway his decision. That if he joins me, it is because he wants to of his own free will.

"I think you're a fool, Charles," he finally says, which isn't the response I had hoped for. "You're ideals are going to lead you and your students like lambs into a slaughter."

I stir in my seat as Erick returns to his chair and continues contemplating all that I have said. "I assume the two Summers children play some part in all of this?"

"If that's what they want. But, yes, I hope that they will." His mind is still swirling. He hasn't laid it all out for me yet.

"If I do this, I have conditions. Are you willing to hear them?" he asks.

"Please, go on," I respond, uneasy about what he's about to say.

"You must agree to train these students to defend themselves," he says, leaning forward towards me. "You must see the necessity of that."

"Erick, I won't turn these children into soldiers."

"Not soldiers, but you have to understand the danger that mutants will face in the world. You may preach your ideals of peace, but there will always be those who wish to make war. You must agree to be prepared for both."

Reluctantly I allow myself to agree with him. As much as I wish it weren't the case, there will be those who seek to make violence.

"Agreed," I say. I can see the look of surprise pop onto his face. I don't need my powers to read that one.

He rises from his chair and I stand to match him. I can tell that he isn't sure this is going to work. To be honest, I'm not entirely sure, myself.

"Alright then, Charles," he says. "Where do we start?"

"Recruitment," I say smirking.

* * *

Snow is coming down pretty heavily as I step out of the car. The neighborhood is nice enough. Very middle class. Homes filled with everyday people living the American dream. On any other occasion, not one of these houses would stand out as being any different than the other. However, the house I find myself standing in front of isn't like any of the others on this block, or any of the others in Dundee, Illinois for that matter.

From the outside it looks ordinary enough. A simple two story house with a detached garage and a large enough yard with some decently sized oak trees. No, it's the residents of the house that make it special. Rather, one resident in particular. I shudder a bit in the cold, walk up the steps and ring the doorbell. I'm a bit early, but I'm sure the McCoys won't mind.

The door cracks open and a middle-aged couple smile warmly at me.

"You must be Professor Xavier! Please, come in," Mrs. McCoy says, gesturing me into the home.

"Mister and Misses McCoy," I say, stepping into the foyer as Mrs. McCoy closes the door behind me.

"Oh, please, Professor. Edna and Norton," Norton says. "Can I take your coat, sir?"

He hangs it on the rack by the door and we make our way into the den. It is a homey place with lots of woodgrains and a fireplace crackling in the corner of the room. There are family photos hanging on the wall in several places, as well as a few standing up on the mantel.

"Is that Henry?" I ask, gesturing to one of the photos.

"That's our Hank," Edna replies. "Can I get you anything? Coffee? Beer?"

"No, thank you."

We make small talk for several minutes as is customary. Norton speaks about the weather, Edna about some of the local gossip. It's all very harmless banter, but eventually I have to move the conversation in a more productive direction.

"So, Edna. Norton. Why don't you tell me about Henry."

"Well, he's one of the smartest kids in his school. Great grades in school. He's always tinkering with this or that. He has a very curious mind, our Hank," Edna beams. I feel the pride she has in her son. It's heart warming.

"Tinkering a little too much, sometimes. He kept taking apart the radio and clocks for parts for some damn fool thing or another," Norton adds. His frustration is real, but it comes from a good place. I'm relieved to find the McCoys to be genuinely good people.

"Well, that intellect of his is actually one of the primary reasons I reached out to you. Your son isn't just one of the smartest in his class, Mrs. McCoy. He may well be one of the smartest young men in the country. Especially in applied sciences."

The couple are taken aback at the statement.

"Smartest in the country?" Norton repeats. "Well I can't imagine where he got that from," he chuckles.

"Let me be direct," I continue. "I run one of the most elite schools in the country. I believe that your son Henry would be a great addition to that school."

"Oh, dear," Edna gasps. "Our Hank? This is all too much, Professor."

"Look, I appreciate the offer, but we're just average working people, Xavier," Norton says. "I'm sure this would be a great opportunity for Hank, but we can't afford some fancy private school. Not on my salary."

"Well, Mr. McCoy, that's one of the great things about the Xavier Institute. There is no tuition. It wouldn't cost you a thing for Henry to attend."

"Then what's the catch?" he asks. He is skeptical of me all of a sudden.

"No catch, I assure you. To be honest, I have more than enough money to fund the school for decades, but we have a few contracts that help to keep us funded. It's possible that your son could contribute to one of those contracts."

I push the questions about the contracts out of their minds. I'm trying very hard not to manipulate them, but I don't want them going too far down the rabbit hole.

"This all sounds like it's too good to be true, but you have my approval," Norton says. He looks at Edna who nods in agreement. "But it's not up to us. Hank's old enough to decide for himself if he wants to go."

"I'd love the chance to talk to him."

We three step out onto the front porch and Norton gestures to the window above the garage door. There is a light on up there, but I can't see anything other than a blue curtain. I expand my mind into the area and immediately find Henry. His brainwave is unmistakingly mutant. He is occupied with something, but I don't pry any further.

"He's up there in the apartment above the garage. He's got some sort of workshop set up in there. Most of it's way over my head," Norton says. "We'll leave you to it, Professor."

The snow crunches as I cross the small part of driveway to the detached garage, then make my up a set of stairs to a small balcony and the door to the upstairs apartment. The snow is coming down a little heavier, now. I knock on the door.

"It's not locked," a deep voice booms from inside. I turn the knob and enter, dusting snow off of me again.

"Henry McCoy?" I inquire as the door clicks closed. I glance around the small room, taking in the relatively impressive space. Work benches line the walls on either side with sole window at the far end of the rectangular room. The benches are littered with various parts of electronics and household appliances. A radio from somewhere is playing music softly. Henry is slumped over the bench at the far end, goggles over his eyes. He appears to be soldering something.

"Professor Xavier, right?" he says, not looking up. "From the Institute?"

"Yes, Henry. I hoped to speak with you."

He turns a knob on his torch and pops off. "About going to your school? I read the brochure. Honestly, Professor, I'm not sure it's the right fit for me."

I catch a stray thought from his mind. He's afraid of being discovered. It occurs to me that he has realized he is a mutant and that I'll find out and turn him over to the authorities. I take a seat on a dusty stool, kicking up dust as I plop down on it.

"Why don't you tell me what you can do, Henry," I request.

"You know about it already. I thought that's why you came to recruit me."

"Tell me in your own words, then."

"Okay. High IQ, good with appliances and electronics. Pretty good at science and math. I find physics to be particularly fascinating."

"No, Henry," I speak aloud, then project directly into his mind,"tell me what you can do."

He is startled, then afraid. Now he knows that I know he is a mutant.

"It's okay, Henry. You can trust me. I'm like you. A mutant."

He shifts back on his stool, eyeing me suspiciously. "How did you know?" he asks, taking this all surprisingly in stride.

"I can read minds. The minds of humans and mutants are very different. Different brainwave patterns," I explain. "But I must be honest with you. Your name was in the files of a very dangerous man, Henry. I can't tell you what his intentions for you were, but he knew you were a mutant, as well."

"How? I've been so careful. I've seen what happens to mutants in the news. I even dropped out of football so I wouldn't draw attention."

"Unfortunately I don't know that, but I can assure you that you aren't in any immediate danger. The man who had your name can't hurt you now."

He stands up from his stool, frantic at what I've told him.

"Even if he's not a threat there might be others. People could find out about me," he says, pacing back and forth. I reach out to try and calm him.

"You're right. Which is the real reason that I am here. Yes, you are an amazingly intelligent individual. Your IQ is well into the genius range, in fact. My school can help you realize your potential in your academic pursuits, Henry, but it can also offer you a safe haven. A place where you'll be with other mutants, not having to live in fear of who might discover your gifts."

"There are other mutants at your school?" he asks.

"Yes. Two other students, possibly another. I haven't met with the third yet." His mind is racing. All of this is happening so fast he is having a hard time processing it. "Let me try something," I say reaching my hands out towards him. "I can show you."

I reach into his mind and broadcast my vision of what the Xavier Institute can be. I share my dream of peaceful coexistence with our human brothers. My intentions. It works. I can immediately feel his mind easing. I remove my mind from his, and for the first time notice a series of bars and pipes running the length of the workshop.

"What are these bars for?" I ask.

Without a word, Henry removes his shows and socks, revealing abnormally large feet with what appears to be an opposable big toe. He smiles at me, then leaps straight up, flipping upside down and catching himself with his feet on the bars. My jaw drops.

"You asked me what I could do," he says, walking a few steps down the bars past me. He then lets go and flips again, landing nimbly on all fours.

"Amazing," I manage to say.

"I also appear to have above average strength and agility, which is why I had to quit football. My mutation was giving me a noticeable advantage over the other players."

"I just have one more question for you, Professor," he says, taking his place back on his stool.

"Anything," I say, regaining my composure.

"Does this school of yours have a lab?"

I smile, letting out a short chuckle. "It most certainly will."

* * *

I am greeting by a lone butler at steps leading up to the Worthington estate. Despite my own considerable wealth, this home and the Worthington fortune makes me look like a pauper. Worthington Industries is one of the largest conglomerates in the world, netting millions of dollars a year. Warren Worthington the second has a higher net worth than several small countries combined.

But it isn't Warren Worthington the second that I've come here to see today. It's his son, Warren the third. I take a few steps towards the house and the butler moves in my direction.

"Mister Xavier, I presume?" he says, an air of snottiness surrounding him.

"Yes, I'm here to speak with Mister and Misses Worthington. They are expecting me," I return.

"They are, but I'm afraid you won't be meeting with them today, sir." The butler escorts me through a side entrance that leads into what I can only assume is the staff's area of the house. We pass through a kitchen and a laundry room, then on into a small room with a single table and two chairs. A man is awaiting my arrival, but it isn't anyone I've ever met.

"Good morning, Mister Xavier. I'm Howard Green, Mister Worthington's attorney," the man says, standing to shake my hand.

"Mr. Green," I say, pushing into his mind to figure out what is going on. "I believe there's been some sort of mistake. I am supposed to be meeting with your employer regarding his son."

"No mistake, sir. Mr. Worthington has already had me draw up all the necessary documentation. There's really no need for him to be here."

Green gestures for me to take a seat at the chair across from him as he sits back down. He produces a briefcase, flips it open and pulls out a handful of documents.

"This first document signs over the child into the custody of the Xavier Institute," he says sliding a form across the table at me. "All we need is your signature on the final page. Unless you need a lawyer to look over the paperwork."

"I really do think it would be best if I spoke to the boy's parents, Mr. Green," I insist, pushing the papers back towards him. "I'm sure they want to be comfortable with the man they seem so eager to hand their son over to."

"The Worthingtons are actually out of the country at the moment, so meeting with them will be impossible for some time. I can assure you, Mr. Xavier, we have done an extensive check into your past. If anything had thrown a red flag we wouldn't be sitting here right now."

The document is pressed back in my direction. I skim over it, give Green a look that most likely doesn't hide my disdain for this process, and sign the last page.

"Excellent. This second document outlines the terms of the ongoing donation the Worthingtons will be extending to your institute."

"I'm sorry, but I'm not looking for any handouts. I have more than enough money to keep the institute going for the foreseeable future."

"We are aware of your family's considerable wealth, Mr. Xavier, but my employer was insistent that this be part of the package. Consider it a gift for helping his son…..overcome his disability."

"Disability? Surely there has been some misunderstanding," I press. I'm finding it very difficult not to mentally force this man to end this madness, but I resist.

"Mr. Xavier, my employer is very grateful that you are setting up a place to help these poor, disadvantaged mutants. His contribution is a reflection of that."

For a moment I contemplate ending this charade, but I relent. Young Warren has already been targeted once. I hesitate again, the reluctantly sign the document.

"I have to say, Mr. Green. It seems your employer is awfully eager to pawn his son off on anyone willing to take him." I can't help but let the anger boil over in my voice.

Green stands up from his place and closes his briefcase, then gathers up the documentation that I've just signed.

"Everything seems to be in order, Mr. Xavier. Warren will be waiting by your car." He then turns and walks out through a door opposite of the door I came in through.

The butler hastily walks me back out through the laundry area and the kitchen, then out into the drive. Standing next to the car is Warren, a single suitcase standing at his feet. My eyes take a moment to adjust and realize what else I'm actually seeing. Two pure white wings hang from the boy's back. It's hard to tell, but I imagine that they would be fifteen or twenty feet from tip to tip. I can't help but think of an angel from scripture.

"Warren, it is nice to meet you," I say as I approach the car.

"Yeah, great," he says as the butler grabs his suitcase and places it into the backseat of my car.

"I know this is a difficult time for you, but I want you to know that I am very excited about you joining the Institute."

"Look, Professor. We both know what's really going on here. My dad's stowing me away somewhere that he thinks I can't embarrass him and he doesn't have to look at me ever."

"The circumstances aren't as I had envisioned them, but that doesn't change anything, Warren. I still believe you can be a valuable asset to the Institute." I catch a glimpse of his thoughts. He is certain that I am only interested in helping him to get his father's money. "You're wrong. I don't need your father's money."

He glances at me sideways, not really sure what just happened.

"Whatever. Not like I've got anywhere else to go. I sure as hell can't stay here, may as well come live in your school for a while."

Warren takes a seat in the back, his wings spreading out across the seat and almost filling the entire floorboard. As I drive away from the estate I start to fully realize just how difficult of a job I have taken on.


	3. Part 3: Ashes (June 1958)

It's been nearly six months since I agreed to this foolishness, and even now I'm no more convinced that I'm making the right decision. I've seen so much of the terrible nature of humanity, and yet here I sit playing teacher to a handful of children.

I watch as Warren swoops across the sky. I fling an iron bar at him, forcing him to quickly change his momentum to avoid it. He manages it adequately enough. Not bad considering how clumsy he had been with his wings when he arrived at the school. Back then he had barely managed to get himself off the ground, let alone maneuver.

"Excellent, Warren," I commend him. "Now execute maneuver delta."

I toss another iron bar upwards with my magnetic powers. Warren completes step one and catches it mid-flight. Now for the trickier part. He balances himself and dives towards a wooden dummy setup at the far end of the field. He comes level a few feet from the ground, draws back the bar like a bat, and takes a massive swing at the dummy's head.

The blow sails high, sending Warren into a spin. I watch, as I have so many times before, as his wings twist around him and he begins to tumble, coming down hard in the grass. He bounces and rolls several feet before ending in a cloud of dust.

"Dammit!" he shouts, jumping to his feet and chucking the bar as hard as he can towards the trees. I grasp in my magnetic clutches and draw it back to me.

"This is so stupid," Warren continues. "I mean, I can fly. If I ever get into trouble I can just take off. I don't need to know how to bash somebody's head in."

"And what if it isn't yourself that needs defending? What if it is Scott or Henry? Would you just leave them to their fates, Warren? Run away?"

He rubs the dirt out of his blonde hair and scoffs.

"Well, I mean no, but still…"

"That's enough for today. The hour is up," I tell him, looking at the time on my watch. "We'll try this again tomorrow."

As I make my way back towards the house, I can't help but wonder what Warren actually will do the day he is faced with a decision of fight or flight. Of the four so called students at the Institute, he is easily the least interested in Charles' dream. He is here because he has nowhere else to go.

"Erick, can I see you in the study?" Charles says into my mind. His mastery over his mental powers have grown in leaps and bounds since we moved to the mansion. It still unsettles me a bit when he does that.

Charles and Henry are waiting for me when I arrive in the small room on the second floor. Henry looks very excited about something, which from my experience with the young man so far could either mean something profound is afoot, or something potentially terrifying.

"Yes, Charles? What's this about?" I say, taking a seat in a corner lounge chair.

"Henry here has something that I think could be a great addition to our operation. Something he has been working on. It's probably best if I let him explain it."

Charles and I both look at Henry expectantly.

"Oh, okay. Well, you see, I've been cataloging the Professor's brain waves using an EEG scanner." He flips open a set of data sheets. "I compared them against several different frequencies and I think I've discovered a way we might amplify the Professor's power."

"Amplify how, exactly?" I press, my concerns about Charles' increasing mental strength creeping into the back of my mind.

"Essentially it would mean a greatly increased range of effectiveness," Henry responds. "If my math is right, I think I could boost his reach to the entire northeastern seaboard."

"Fascinating, isn't it?" Charles chimes in.

"Perhaps, but to what end? How will this help us, Charles?"

"If this works, it could give me the ability to find mutants from right here at the Institute. We wouldn't have to wait until they were already in trouble," he explains.

"Right, exactly," Henry picks back up. "Which leads me to your role in this. I've ordered a pretty broad collection of metallic samples to try and find the best alloy to use in the amplifier. It would make the process much more efficient if you could help me."

It's a reasonable enough request I suppose, but I mull the implications over a few times just to be sure. It also gives me a bit of pleasure to see Charles squirm as awaits my response.

Before I can voice my response, Charles smiles and says, "Excellent. I knew you would be on board, Erick." He plucked the answer from my mind without even a moment's hesitation.

"Also," Charles continues,"I'll be away from the Institute for the remainder of the day. I have a meeting in Washington D.C. I've given the students their school work for the evening, I'd appreciate it if you could make sure it got done."

I cringe. "You're the Professor, Charles. Not me."

"No teaching, just monitoring," he says as he pulls his jacket on. "It's just for the evening. I'll be back tomorrow before classes begin."

I spend the rest of the evening in the library with the students, moving a set of steel balls around me, honing my powers. The children go about their studies without much resistance. It comes as no surprise to me that Warren requires the most attention. He has a distracted mind, and deep down in my soul I know that I don't like him on a personal level. I think of him as a rich brat, born with a silver spoon in his mouth and never wanting for anything. Had he not grown wings when he was thirteen he would have been set for life. No discipline. Self centered. Mentally absent from most of the activities around the school.

On the other end of the spectrum sits Scott Summers. A child in age, but wise and mature well beyond his years. He had known loss and had taken on the responsibility of his younger brother despite both of their very young ages. He is stoic and self sure. His self determination had him well on his way to mastering his powerful optic beams before Charles and I had even met him. I respect the boy. Of the students currently enrolled here at the Xavier Institute, Scott has the best chance of surviving the inevitable war between man and mutant. Most likely he would be a champion for our cause, so long as Charles doesn't pollute his mind with delusions of co-existence before he gets the chance to realize his potential.

Then there was Alex, the younger Summers brother. In the past six months I had interacted with him the least. His mutation was too unstable to train, most likely thanks to the manipulations of Nathaniel Essex. To hear Henry explain, the boy absorbs some type of latent cosmic energy and re-channels it into kinetic force, but something in his metabolism prevents his body from regulating the absorption and so his powers swell until he explodes in one massive, uncontrollable release. Henry and Charles developed a containment device that the boy is confined to, which means he is cut off from the rest of the school. I don't think I've shared more than a few words with him since we moved to the mansion.

And Henry. In many ways, Henry is as much a partner in the Institute as he is a student. He is brilliant, always coming up with ideas for gadgets and tools like this amplification device he wants me to help him with. He's also the oldest student by a few years and keeps mostly to himself. His training has gone well, due in no small part to the nature of his mutation. Agile, strong, and deadly fast. He moves like an animal. The irony of that isn't lost on me. Physically a brute, but mentally a scholar. Like Scott, he could be a great leader for the mutant cause if given the chance. If he wasn't so awkward, I might even consider him a friend.

* * *

Early the following morning I run into Charles in the kitchen. He looks tired, as if he had gotten home late from his trip to DC. He smiles at me.

"Ah, Erick, good. I had hoped to speak with you before your first lesson," he says, gesturing me towards the kitchen table. "Please, sit."

"Late night, Charles?" I ask, taking a seat.

"Actually, that's what I wanted to speak with you about." He yawns and covers his mouth. It isn't often that I've seen him like this. Typically Charles is the model of composure.

"My meeting in DC yesterday went better than I could have anticipated," he continues. "A few weeks ago I learned that the FBI had opened a task force to investigate the growing number of reports regarding mutants. I was also able to learn the name of the sole agent assigned to the task force. Fred Duncan."

"Is he threat to us?" I ask.

"On the contrary, I believe he could be a valuable ally for us." Charles yawns again. "I met with him in his office yesterday. To be frank, he is flooded with cases. It seems that dozens of new mutants are popping up every month, and he can't move fast enough to do much with any of them."

I imagine all of my brother and sister mutants out there, fighting to stay safe in a world that can't possibly understand them. Until this moment, it hadden occurred to me just how few mutants we have managed to help so far. Four out of what could be hundreds just in the United States. It is likely that this population boom is happening across the globe. There could be tens of thousands of mutants out there. Every one of them in a fight for their lives, whether they've realized it yet or not.

"So many?" I finally manage. "Are there really so many of us out there?"

"It would seem so. Agent Duncan has agreed to work with us on some of the more challenging cases, but we'll obviously have to be very careful in what we allow him to know."

"Did you reveal yourself to him, Charles? Does he know you're a mutant, too?" I ask, fear of exposure coursing through my veins.

"No, I didn't have to. I was able to convince him of my credentials." Charles rises from the table. "I'm sorry I didn't include you in this Erick, but I needed to know what I had first."

"Afraid I might disapprove of involving humans in our cause, old friend?" I smirk, but deep down Charles would be right to think that. My faith in humanity was never very strong, and it has only diminished since Seattle.

Charles sighs at me. I can feel his exasperation with me. We have never seen eye to eye on this issue, and those differences were beginning to rear their heads much more often since the founding of the Institute. We never talked about it directly, but we both know that this arrangement isn't going to last forever.

"I have a class, and I believe you have a training exercise," Charles says, walking out of the kitchen. I follow shortly, finding Scott waiting for me in the yard.

* * *

It takes Henry and me only a few days to complete the work on the device that Henry and Charles have taken to calling Cerebro, the amplification device for Charles' powers. I question why that name was chosen, but ultimately lose interest halfway through the explanation. Whatever they want to call it, the device should work. Two weeks after that, Henry has completed construction and it is ready to be tested. The three of us gather in the study, which now has a corner of it dedicated to housing the metal plates and a ridiculous looking helmet that Charles has to put on his head to make the whole thing work.

"Okay, Professor," Henry says, monitoring a set of gauges lined along a thin console. "All you should have to do is project your thoughts into the helmet and everything should be automatic from there."

"What if something goes wrong?" I press. "Could Charles be injured by this?"

"Well, there is a chance for feedback or distortion. I would guess the worst case scenario would be a really bad headache. It shouldn't dangerous," Henry replies. I'm not convinced, but Charles seems to be.

"Let's begin," Charles says, placing the helmet over his head.

It takes several tense moments, but eventually the needles on the console begin to move. The plates begin to give off a faint hum and the helmet lights up, indicating it is receiving the signal from Charles.

"Oh my God," Charles says. He is in the room, but sounds like he could be hundreds of miles away. "This is incredible."

"Tell me what you see, Professor," Henry says, readying his pencil for a furious set of note taking.

"I see….everything," Charles says, a tear running down his cheek. "It's working."

Several seconds pass as Charles takes in his new reach. I am envious of him for a moment. To experience such a power must feel truly incredible, but then I am reminded of my original concerns about Charles and his power. I question whether his reach might be exceeding his grasp.

"Wait, what is that?" Charles says. "I can see them, Erick. I can see...four. There are four mutants within range. One in New Jersey...another just outside of New York City. Wait."

Charles pauses long enough for the silence to become uncomfortable.

"There is another signal. It just appeared. It's so strong I'm….I'm having a hard time seeing anything else. Where are you?"

My skin crawls. This exercise has gone from interesting to be very unsettling. Part of me wants to pull the plug on this. It would be easy enough.

"Don't Erick," Charles says. He read my thoughts. "I can almost see her. THERE! She's young. Oh no, her friend...no…"

"What is it, Professor?" Henry says, trying to keep him tethered.

"That's enough of this, Henry. Stop the test," I say.

"NO! NOOO! AAAAAAAARRRRRGGHHHH!" Charles screams, clutching the helmet and ripping it from his head. Cerebro sparks and shorts out as the helmet clunks to the floor and cracks. Charles topples over his desk, knocking over several things as he crashes into it. Henry moves to quickly catch him.

"Professor, speak to me!" he shouts. "Professor?"

"Uh…..oh…...I'm….I'm okay, Henry," Charles stammers, regaining his feet. "I'm fine now."

"What happened?" I demand, grabbing at Henry's coat. "I thought you said this was safe!"

"Erick, stop it!" Charles demands. "It wasn't the machine. It was...it was the mutant I detected. So much pain. So much raw power."

"Where?" I demand.

"Ah...Annandale-on-Hudson," he replies. "Near Bards College. We must hurry."

"No, Professor. You need to rest. We don't know what lasting impact this might have on you," Henry says, helping Charles to his desk chair.

"No Henry, we must go now. I fear we may already be too late."

Charles is still rattled as we make the drive north to Annandale-on-Hudson. He doesn't speak much. I've truly never seen him like this. It almost seems as if he has seen a ghost. I marvel at the kind of power that could put him such a state. It's more than anything we have encountered up to this point.

We arrive in a quaint neighborhood just before the sun starts to set. It's been over an hour since Charles first made contact with this mutant, but it isn't hard to find. We turn a corner and find chaos. Several police cars have blocked the road. As we draw to a stop, I can see a yellow sedan sitting in the middle of the road. A small crumple is dinged into the front driver side fender. A small bicycle rests beneath it. Over to the side near the curb, it looks as if something turned the earth and pavement inside out. A tree has toppled over into the nearby yard.

"That house there," Charles says, pointing.

"Excuse me sir, you can't park here," a young policeman says as he approaches us.

"We were called by the family. You'll let us through," Charles says casually as he steps around the back of the car.

"I'll let you through," the policeman says.

"Charles, did you-"

"Not now, Erick. This is far too important to be worried about minor morals."

Several more officers are inside the house speaking with the family. I spot what must be the parents of our new mutant. A sister, as well.

"Mister and Misses Grey, my name is Charles Xavier. I need everyone else to clear the room," Charles says as all of the police and the sister scatter in every direction. I've never seen Charles use so much power so effortlessly.

"What's this about?" Mr. Grey says, clearly confused by what's happening. "Who are you?"

"Mr. Grey, I am here to help your daughter. Believe me when I say I may be the only person who can help her. Please, tell me what happened."

"You're a mutant, aren't you?" Mrs. Grey says, clutching at the sleeve of her husband's shirt. "What do you want with our daughter?"

"Yes, Mrs. Grey, I am a mutant. And so is your daughter. Please, let me help her. Tell me what happened."

"Jean was playing with her friend, Rachel from down the street. Riding their bikes. A driver didn't see them, hit Rachel. Jean saw the whole thing happen. After that, she….did something. I don't know what, exactly. But she went into some kind of coma from the shock. She's upstairs in her bed." Mr. Grey fights back tears as he finishes telling us the story.

"That's what I felt," Charles says to me. "I felt a death, I feared it had been her, but I think the trauma of losing her friend activated her powers. She was mentally connected to Rachel when she died. It was more than her young mind could handle. I know, it's happened to me before." He furrows his brow, reminding me of Seattle.

"Mr. Grey I must see Jean. She is in great pain. I believe I can help her."

"No, you can't just walk in here and make demands. How do we know we can trust you?" Mr. Grey says, getting in Charles' face.

"Sir," I interject, "if Charles wanted to, he could force you to do whatever he wanted. But he isn't doing that. He is giving you the right to choose."

The angered Mr. Grey looks at me, his eyes narrowing.

"Believe," I continue, "if our roles were reversed, I wouldn't extend you that courtesy. Your daughter is in grave danger from herself, and there is only one person I know that can do anything for her right now. Charles Xavier knows as much about mutants as any other person on this planet. If her says he can help your daughter, you should feel grateful for the opportunity."

"John, let them help her," Mrs. Grey says. "Please."

John Grey stands motionless, weighing the options presented to him. He has every right not to trust us. In truth, he'd probably be right not to. But Charles is the only hope for his daughter. That much is absolutely true.

"She's in her room upstairs. The door with the pink bunnies on it."

Charles steps in the direction of the stairs, but Mr. Grey grabs him by the arm.

"Don't make me regret this, Xavier," he says.

"You have my word, Mr. Grey. I will do everything in my power to help young Jean."

The door is easy enough to find. It's the only one with pink bunnies on it, but there is something strange about the door. It's almost as if it is sweating. Some of the paint is blistering, but there is no heat. Charles cautiously opens the door to find the entire room in similar conditions. It appears as if the room is on fire, but there are no flames or heat. Just blistering and smoldering walls.

"Charles, are you sure about this?" I ask, braving to step beyond the threshold of the door. "Have you ever seen anything like this?"

"No, but I would bet no one has," he responds as he reaches the edge of the bed. The girl is sweating and in a restless sleep. "She is unconscious, but her mind is on fire." Charles reaches out and places his hand on her forehead.

Suddenly it's as if he were struck by some invisible force, lifting him up and tossing him against the wall with a crash. Then that same force strikes at me, knocking me backwards against the open door, slamming it shut. The room shutters.

"She is so powerful. I tried to reach her but something lashed out at me. Something she wasn't in control of," Charles says, dragging himself back to his feet.

I groan and stand, my back aching from hitting the door. "This girl may be the most powerful mutant being on the planet. Imagine what she could be capable of once she learns to control that power, Charles."

"No, Erick, it's too much for her. Her mental powers have taken over her mind. They are raging inside of her like a hurricane. Her thoughts are consumed with ash and flame."

"We can teach her the control she needs," I press.

"I have an idea, but it will be tricky," Charles says, bracing himself to make contact with the girl's mind again. "I'm going to contain her powers within her mind. Cut them off from her."

Anger boils inside me at the thought. "Charles, you fool. You cannot cage this girl's powers. They are a part of her. She is meant to control them, do not deny her that right!"

"I can set up the barriers in stages. Take them down as she gains control of it in smaller doses."

"If if she never meets your standards of control? Then what? Would you deny her of her birthright until the day she dies?"

"Better that than to sit and watch her destroy herself, Erick!"

"You're afraid of her, aren't you?" I say. "She's so much more powerful than anything you imagined that you don't know what to do other than to cage it. Are you such a coward, Charles?"

"Enough of this, Erick. You've no idea what she is going through. No concept of what you're talking about. This is what is best for her," he says. "If you try to stop me, I will act against you, Erick. I have to. She's too dangerous to risk it."

In this moment, I realize the disadvantage Charles has me at. The disadvantage he has always had me at. No matter how powerful my magnetic powers ever become, he could simply put me to sleep or command me to do as he wishes. I suddenly realize why I am so concerned with his increasing powers. Part of me doesn't trust him and never has.

"Do as you see fit, Charles. You know as well as I do I can't stop you."

Minutes go by as Charles strains to gain access to Jean's mind. All I can do is sit back and watch. With time, the walls stop blistering and sweating. The shuttering of the room stops. Finally, Jean seems to fall into what appears to be a peaceful sleep. I look at Charles, who seems exhausted from the effort. For a brief moment, I think this may be my opportunity to strike. To quell my fears and end this man. But no, he is like a brother to me, I can't kill him. I won't.

"Is it done?" I ask.

"Yes. The barriers are in place. I pray that they hold long enough for me to teach her the control she will need. For all our sakes."

"Charles, I must be honest with you. I fear you have made a terrible mistake. Caging this beast will only make it more wild. Harder to control. You may have just set this girl on a path of destruction that otherwise would have been avoided."

"I had no other choice. I hope you eventually come to understand that."

"There is always another choice. You were just too much of a coward to see it."

EPILOGUE

Trask enters the room to see a who's who collection of politicians and military leadership all seated around a horseshoe shaped table. In the middle of the inner circle of the table sits a lone desk and chair. He takes his place there and pulls up the overhead projector. His assistant pulls down the projection screen behind him.

"Gentlemen, I thank you for giving me the opportunity to come before you today," Trask says, pulling several folders from his briefcase.

"Trask, I think I speak for everyone here when I say we can skip with the pleasantries," one of the military men says. "Why don't we move right to the reason you called us all here."

"Very well," Trask says, placing a transparency onto the projector.

He reaches down and flips on the light, beaming an image onto the screen. It is a schematic for a robot of some kind. There are dimensions and specifications listed off to one side of the image with lines indicated points of interest in the design.

"Let me tell you about my Sentinels."


	4. Part 4: Ice and Fire (April 1960)

I pace back and forth, trying my best to keep my nerves in check. But I can't help it, this is a such a big day. It's been three years since Professor Xavier and Mr. Lansheer saved Alex and me from Essex, and in a lot of ways today feels like a culmination of all the things that have happened in the time since.

"Okay, team, get ready," I say, glancing over my shoulder to Warren, Hank, and Alex standing behind me. "We're going in hard and fast. Warren, we don't know what to expect, so make sure to keep anything from hitting us from the air. Hank, you're on point. Alex and I will cover you."

"Roger, oh fearless leader," Hank replies.

"Here we go," I say as the gates begin to open. "On my mark!"

The gates fly open revealing our battlefield. The training field behind the Institute has been turned into a gauntlet. I immediately see a dozen or more metallic targets moving towards us, controlled by Mr. Lansheer at the opposite end of the course. Our goal is to get past them and capture the flag at the far end, over two hundred yards away.

"Go!" I shout, letting loose an optic blast at the nearest enemy, knocking it to pieces. Alex projects his own blast from his closed fist just beside me, taking out two others that had gotten too close to one another. "Nice shot," I comment as a whoosh of air rushes over us. Warren soars into the sky looking for a target.

Hank bounds forward, ricocheting off of one enemy into another, knocking them off balance as he goes. He's near the first hill when the second wave marches into view, a handful of flyers hovering above them. Several of the ground units fire off metal shrapnel towards Hank which he narrowly avoids.

Before I can give the command, Alex moves forward and unleashes his power on another handful of the enemies, tearing them to pieces. Pride swells up in me. Four years ago Alex wasn't even able to control his powers, but now, with the help of a regulator suit that Hank built for him, he commands them like a pro. Still beaming, I unleash my own volley of short bursts of optic blast on three enemies as they move in on Hank. He leaps over a line of them and sweeps them from behind, tearing at their backs and disabling them.

Warren cuts across the line, grabbing a ground unit and tossing it with all his might into one of the flyers, sending both crashing to the earth in a pile. He pivots, turns, and grabs the outreached hand of another flyer, yanking it off balance and causing it to crash as well. Unfortunately, a third flyer catches him off guard and clobbers him. His stunned body plummets at the line.

"Hank! Grab Warren!" I shout, then watch as Hank leaps onto the shoulders of an enemy, then bounds upward, tearing the head off of it as he leaps. With ease he catches Warren and delivers him safely to the ground as Alex and I give them space with our energy blasts.

Two flyers come down on me hard, but I manage to use one's momentum to disable it. The other grabs me and suddenly I'm airborne, which is the worst case scenario for a non-flyer in combat. I wrestle with the machine's grasp, then unleash a point blank optic blast to its torso. I hit the ground hard. I must have fallen at least ten feet. The edges of my vision are hazy.

I see Alex get overtaken by a handful of the machines, but a quick burst of his power flings them in every direction. I can hear him talking, but my ears are ringing. I can't make out what he's saying.

Suddenly the strong hands of Hank wrench me to my feet and everything starts to become clear.

"Scott, Warren is down, we can't lose you too," he says. I glance down and see Warren lying on the ground.

"I'm down, but I'm not out," Warren says as he readies himself for combat.

The machines are closing in on us quickly now, and we haven't even cleared the first hill. We still have nearly a hundred yards to go to get the flag.

"Alright, new plan," I say, shaking the cobwebs out of my head. "Warren, do you think you can carry one of us?"

"Uh, maybe," he responds timidly. "Alex, he's the lightest probably. Maybe him."

"I need you to be sure!" I shout, then unleash a few blasts to keep the closer machines at distance. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah, I'm sure," he says, furrowing his brow.

"Then take Alex and make for the flag," I tell him, then turn to my little brother. "Alex, keep the flyers off of him long enough to get you there."

Warren and Alex lift off, but I can see Warren struggling with the extra weight. I have no idea if this is going to work or not. I provide cover fire from a set of ground unit and a flyer to help them get airborne. Hank starts working his way through another set that is moving on our position.

"Hank, you and me are gonna draw them in," I say, pushing a machine backwards into a pair of others, then letting loose a blast that hits all three.

"Let's go, then," Hank says as he rips the limbs off another unit.

Together we crest the first hill, bringing into view the dozens of other machines waiting for us between the flag. I watch as Warren and Alex fly over them, Alex blasting any flyers that get too close to them. For a brief moment, I think this plan might work.

I hear Hank scream in pain as a machine grabs his arm while another clubs at his head and shoulders. He kicks free, but the damage is done. A volley of shrapnel strikes him from behind and lays him low. I release a few quick blasts to keep the other machines off of him, but there are too many of them. One grabs me from behind and we topple forward, rolling down the hill a few feet before I'm able to flip the machine forward and free myself.

A quick glance confirms that I'm completely cut off from Hank. I'm now nearly thirty feet passed him. My options are to fight my way backwards, or try and move forwards. All the while a dozen machines are closing in on me.

I unleash a wide arc from my eyes that takes out several of them, but I feel machines grabbing at my arms and holding me back. I'm trapped now, all I can do is fight until the end. Blast after blast I knock as many out of commission as I can, but eventually it's more than I can handle. I bring my legs up and kick off a machine, knocking me and my captors backwards into a pile. I'm free just long enough to see Warren and Alex come to a landing just short of the platform with the flag on it. They are overwhelmed almost immediately. I see Warren try and escape upwards, but numerous hands grab at his legs and pull him back down. Alex gets off a few blasts, then I lose sight of them.

Suddenly, all of the machines collapse. I look around at the various piles of debris, and it hits me what happened. We lost. Hank rises to his feet, rubbing his head. I look for Warren and Alex near the platform. They're there, a little worse for wear.

"Under the circumstances, Scott," I hear Mr. Lansheer say, "I'd say you actually did fairly well."

He hovers down from the sky, his metallic boots glinting in the sunlight of the Spring day. As he descends, the piles of machine parts begin gathering to him and forming a massive ball of junk.

"Not well enough," I say, dragging myself to my feet. "I managed to get every one of my teammates killed."

"True, but you showed your tenacity in the process. You were able to adapt your strategy on the fly. And, most importantly, you fought to the bitter end."

The soreness is already creeping across my back now that the battle is over. I'll be nursing these wounds for a while. Both the physical and the emotional.

"Yeah, but we didn't win, so it doesn't matter," I say, letting my disappointment seep through in my tone a little more than I want to.

"It wasn't designed for you to win, Scott. It was designed to see how you would react to a losing situation," Mr. Lansheer replies. "To see if you can continue fighting, despite the odds. In that regard you and your team did quite well."

We gather ourselves and head back towards the mansion, each of us sporting our own unique set of bumps and bruises. My head is starting to pound from using my optic blasts so much. Sometimes I wish my powers worked like Alex's. For him, letting loose a blast is just letting go. For me, it's the opposite. It's like flexing a muscle.

I see Jean standing on the back patio waiting for us. My stomach turns in knots like it always does. She's so beautiful it stuns me every time I see her. This time I'm a little embarrassed, too.

"I guess you saw all of that?" I say, stepping up onto the stone of the patio.

"Most of it," she replies. "It looked pretty rough out there. Are you hurt?"

"Just my pride, I guess," I say trying to sound tougher than I feel. My body's aching all over.

Hank, Warren, and Alex pass us by and continue on to the house. Alex looks at me sideways as he passes, a flash of jealousy crossing his face. I see it on Warren, but to a lesser extent. I know that they both have a crush on Jean, especially Alex. When he told me how he felt about her I had done my best to keep my distance, but in the end she had spurned his advances and chosen to spend her time with me. I felt bad about it, but I couldn't deny that I liked her. Not only is she the only girl at the school, but she's one of the prettiest girls I've ever seen. When she showed interest, it had been impossible to resist. Alex didn't take it very well. Our relationship suffered for it, but I hope one day he will get over it.

"I thought you looked really brave out there," she says, putting her hand on my shoulder.

A lump swells in my throat.

"Uh, thanks," I manage, my heart pounding.

"So did you still want help with your English paper?" she asked, quickly changing the subject.

"Oh, yeah. If you still want to help me. I need to get cleaned up and get my stuff. Can you meet me in the kitchen in about an hour?"

"Sure," she says, then turns and heads towards the house. My head is still swimming even after she's out of sight. I don't know what, but apparently I'm doing something right.

* * *

Saturdays are our days off. No classes, no training exercises, just rest and relaxation. After our experience in the gauntlet early this week, what I'm really looking forward to is getting out of the mansion for a while and hitting the town. Professor doesn't mind us leaving campus, but unless it's a special occasion, we're usually limited to Salem-Center or North Salem a few miles away. There's not much to do in North Salem other than a movie theater, but that isn't really my thing, so I find Hank and see if he wants to hit the record store and diner in Salem-Center with me. I'm relieved when he says yes, because we aren't allowed to leave campus alone and I'm still too nervous to ask Jean to go one on one.

Alex declines the offer, giving me a snide remark that I do my best to ignore. He's so cold to me now. It's hard not to let it get me down. We were so close before. Now we almost feel like strangers.

The ride into town is pretty uneventful unless you're a big fan of trees and open fields. Hank drives and we cruise in silence, listening to the radio and tapping along to the songs we know. It's these brief moments away from the school that I almost feel like a normal teenager. No mutant powers. No social unrest. No preparing for the future. Just two friends, a car, and a radio. It's a nice change of pace.

"So what are you gonna do now that you've finished school?" I finally ask as Salem-Center comes into view down the road. Hank technically graduated from high school in the last term, but he had decided to hang around the Institute and try and figure out what to do next. "Are you still considering Columbia?"

"Maybe. The Professor in insistent that I continue my education, but it isn't easy to leave my friends and the Institute. You guys are like my family, now," Hank answers pulling the car to a stop at the first stop light in town.

"Well, I'd miss you like crazy, but Professor's right. You're too smart, Hank. You have to do something with that giant brain of yours."

"What about you? You'll be done with your school soon, too. We could go to Columbia together," Hank proposes, but he already knows why that won't ever happen.

"Me? In an Ivy League school? I can barely get through senior English." The car lurches forward when our light turns green. "No, I'll probably stay close to the mansion. I can't really see myself anywhere else."

"Is that the mission talking, or something a little closer to the heart, Scotty boy?" Hank teases at me. Of course he's talking about Jean. I turn red in the face and keep quiet.

Hank pulls the car into a space in the town square right in front of Bitty's Diner, the most popular hang out in town. It looks like the lunch rush is starting to wind down, so we decide to see what's happening at the record store around the corner. It's relatively quiet for a Saturday afternoon, but at least it gives us plenty of elbow room to browse.

"Afternoon, gents," the clerk greets us as we walk through the door. "Anything I can help you find today? Got that new Bill Haley and His Comets album. It's sure to be the hit of the year."

"No thanks, we're just looking," Hank says as we press on into the store. He moves over to the folk albums. I've never understood how anyone can listening to that stuff. It's so boring. I'm more of a rock and roll guy, myself.

We spend the better part of an hour sifting through the shelves before we both make a selection. Hank has found the new album from The Kingston Trio, while I end up settling on the clerk's original suggestion. We make our purchases and head back towards the diner.

"What if I decide to stick around, too?" Hank asks me out of nowhere. "I like the Institute. Maybe I shouldn't go off to university."

"Well, it's up to you Hank, but you know the Professor won't approve."

We grab a burger and a shake and eat mostly in silence. As if our lives weren't crazy enough, now we are being faced with all of it changing again. I don't want Hank to go to Columbia or any other college, but only because he's my best friend and I like having him around. I like things the way they are, but I know things are about to change for all of us.

"Say, you spend a lot more time with Professor Xavier and Mr. Lansheer," I meekly mention. I'm finally working up the courage to ask a question I've been wanting answered for almost a year now. "What is that they're always arguing about? It seems like that's all they do now."

Hank lets out a slow sigh and puts his burger down on his plate.

"It's complicated, Scotty, and honestly I don't think I know the whole story." He mulls over his next words pretty carefully. I already thought it would be bad news, but now I'm pretty certain of it.

"I think it all goes back to a difference of opinion," Hank finally says. "Professor and Erick were the first mutant that either of them had ever met other than themselves. There's a deep bond between them that is still strong. They founded the school together, but I don't think they share in the same vision."

"What do you mean?" I ask, trying not to sound too pushy.

"Well, you know what the Professor stands for. Peaceful co-existence and showing humanity a better way to live. But Erick? Well, he's had a darker past. He's seen the worst in people too many times to forget. He's never said it to me directly, but I think he believes there's a war coming."

"A war between who?"

"Humans and, well, us," he says in a hushed voice. "I think that's why he pushes so hard for us to be trained in self defense. He's preparing us for the war he thinks is coming."

I sit in stunned silence for a minute. I had never even considered that the two of them wouldn't agree on the vision of the Xavier Institute. I thought it had maybe been over a woman or something. I was experiencing first hand how much of a wedge that could cause between the closest of your friends and family.

"So what do you think?" I finally ask, not sure which side of the divide I land on myself. My experiences with humans that knew about my powers hadn't been very positive up to this point, either.

"I have to believe that what we are means something," Hank says. "And I weep for all our fates if what we represent is something as basely human as war. No, I have to believe that we are meant to make this world a better, safer place for everyone."

After that the mood at the table completely changes. We had accidentally turned what was suppose to be a fun afternoon between two friends into exactly what we had been trying to get away from. Social issues and plans for the future. We finish our meals and make the drive back to the mansion in silence. The radio never turns on the whole way back.

* * *

The next three weeks are life as usual. Cold shoulders from Alex, warm moments with Jeans, friendly ribbing and banter with Hank and Warren, and the soft sounds of an ongoing argument between the Professor and Mr. Lansheer. We also run the gauntlet two more times, both times ending just as badly as the first.

The team and I are in the middle of gearing up for another run in the gauntlet when an unexpected ring on the doorbell disrupts our plans. Hank and I duck our heads out into the hallway and see Professor Xavier answering the door. He welcomes in a man in a business suit and fedora hat carrying a briefcase. I've never seen him around the Institute before. I wonder if he's a mutant or not.

The man disappears up the stairs with the Professor and we make our way back to the team just as Mr. Lansheer is entering the locker room.

"Training is cancelled for the day," he says, pulling his metal boots off and sliding into his loafers. "Stay out of sight. One of us will come and get you when it's safe to leave this room."

We wait for nearly an hour before I hear a voice in my head.

"Scott, Henry, please report to my study immediately."

Hank and I find the Professor and Mr. Lansheer both waiting for us in the upstairs room. The man is nowhere to be found. I've never actually been in this room, and the first thing I notice is the back corner that is covered with tiles connected to a cracked helmet and dusty console.

"First of all I would like to put it on the record that I am against this," the Professor says as we enter the room, "but Erick insists that you are ready."

"Ready for what, Professor?" Hank says. I thought maybe he'd know what this about, but he's obviously as clueless as I am.

"One of our contacts has alerted us to a developing mutant issue in Long Island. It appears that a young mutant's abilities manifested at school this morning under some unknown circumstances and some of the students there were injured," Professor Xavier explains.

"Apparently the locals are near rioting," Mr. Lansheer continues. "The boy is being held in a local police station for questioning, but the situation is highly unstable. We need to extract him before something tragic happens."

"Professor, this is why I've been pushing you to reinstate Cerebro. We could have been ahead of this," Hank says.

"Not now, Henry," Professor bites back. I'm feeling like a little kid among adults.

"So...what do you want us to do?" I ask, still not seeing my place in all this.

"We are going in, and there are too many combustible elements for Charles and I to handle on our own," Lansheer explains. "We can hold off the crowd, but we'll need you and Henry to go in and get the boy out."

I swallow hard, my nerves spiking. "But sir, I can't even lead a team against a bunch of your magnetic machines and win. I don't think I'm ready for this."

"I assure you, Scott," he retorts, "I wouldn't be putting you in this position if I didn't think you were ready."

We load up without much else being said. Jean and Warren catch us at the door to wish us well, but Alex is nowhere to be found. I'm terrified of what we're going to be walking in to. I never thought I would be seeing field work so soon. I hope that I can live up to Mr. Lansheer's expectations.

It is a long, tense drive to Long Island. It takes us nearly four hours to get there from the Institute. The Professor seems to spend most of the trip doing his best to monitor the situation with his mind, but I don't know how successful he is. He never really says anything. Hank and I ride silently in the backseat. I find myself wishing more than a few times that someone would turn on a radio, but no way am I asking.

The sun is hanging low in the sky by the time we pull up to the police station. Or at least as close as we can get to it. The scene is absolute chaos. Hundreds of people are gathered in the street and the front lawn of the station, some of them holding signs. The police have created a blockade around the front, but it looks like the situation could explode at any moment. Now I'm really questioning what I'm doing here. I look at Hank hoping for some reassurance, but I don't find any. He's just as shocked as I am.

"I can clear you a path through the crowd, but once you're inside I'm afraid you'll be on your own," the Professor says as we step out of the car. "Erick, keep your senses sharp. If you detect any kind of weapon, shut it down."

We approach the crowd and much to my surprise they calmly part ways for us to get through. It's all very unsettling, no less so because I know the Professor is doing this. Hank is right behind me as we push through the mayhem.

"What are we supposed to do once we get inside?" I ask him.

"Figure it out, I suppose," he says somewhat absently.

Once we clear the crowd, it is easy for us to pass the barricade and get through the front door. No one even tries to stop us. There aren't many people moving around inside, just a few detectives and a handful of officers furiously filling out paperwork. Then I spot him. The mystery man from earlier. He sees us and makes a face as if he's been expecting us to show up.

"Scott and Henry?" he says as he approaches us. "I'm Special Agent Fred Duncan with the FBI. Xavier told me to be expecting you."

"Uh, okay," I manage. "What can we do to help?"

Agent Duncan leads us into the back and through a thick glass door. Around another corner the jail cells come into view. I see him sitting there all alone and I'm surprised by how young he looks.

"That's him. Bobby Drake," Agent Duncan tells us. "I'll leave you to it."

Agent Duncan leaves the room headed back towards the main area. We're alone with Bobby Drake. That's when I notice that his cell isn't locked. We approach the door, doing our best to look like we know what we're doing.

"Bobby? I'm Scott. Scott Summers," I say. "This is my friend Hank McCoy. We're here to help you."

"Can you tell us what happened?" Hank asks.

Bobby looks at us through tear soaked eyes. His face is bright red like he's been crying for hours. I feel a great well of sadness for him.

"I-I don't know," he whimpers. "I tried to stop this kid from picking on my friend and all of a sudden….," he trails off.

"All of a sudden what, Bobby?" I press.

"It was just...I don't know. Ice everywhere," he says, gesturing with his hands. "I think one kid might have gotten frozen. I think I did that."

"You're right, Bobby. You did do that, but it was an accident," Hank says, entering the cell. "You're a mutant, just like us. We're from a place that can help you understand your powers. A place where you can be safe."

"We need you to come with us, Bobby. We can get you to safety, but we need to go now," I say, offering him my hand.

He looks at me for a few seconds, then takes my hand and I pull him to his feet. He is trembling and his hands are ice cold. Together, the three of us make our way towards the main room. I try and think at the Professor that we have Bobby, but I don't really know how to do that.

"I hear you, Scott. Good work. I'll cover your exit but-"

The thought never finishes as an explosion rips through the back of the police station, the force knocking everyone inside to the ground and sending debris everywhere. A desk lands on top of me and rolls off, but it hurts all the same. I try to gain my bearings and get back to my feet. Hank is beside me still, but I don't see Bobby. A trickle of blood runs down Hank's forehead, but it doesn't look serious.

"We've come for the mutants!" a voice yells over the chaos. I swing my vision around to the new hole in the back of the station. A man and woman come through the smoke into view. They are both wearing black body suits with belts and straps in various places. I immediately recognize the gun on the man's hip. His hair is long and black, a dark mustache covers his upper lip. She is muscularly built with short dark hair, a ribbon of purple running through it.

Without thinking, I fire off an optic blast at the man and hit him square in the chest and sending him backwards into the smoke. I angle a second blast at the woman, but it glances off of her and has little effect.

"Nice try, junior, but you've got a lot to learn," she says coyly, then slaps her hands together as hard as she can, generating a force blast the throws everything in the room sailing backwards, myself and Hank included. I crash hard into a wooden rail and tumble backwards. I hear Hank scream as he crashes through the glass doors, shattering them.

Suddenly a wall of ice blasts across the room, separating us from the approaching woman. I look around in a state of confusion and see Bobby. His hands are steaming and his skin looks to be semi-transparent. Everything around him is beginning to freeze.

"No. Not again!" he says, starting to panic.

There is another loud crack and the ice wall starts to splinter. It holds, Bobby's powers slowly filling in the cracks. Another clap shatters it, sending ice shards like bullets across the room. I can hear the screams of the people outside now. Something is going on out there, too, but I can't tell what.

"You little brats are really starting to give me a headache!" the woman says as she draws closer to us. A blast of cold air hits her and frosts her bodysuit and hair, but little else. She flings a chair effortlessly at Bobby which hits him square, sending him to the floor. The ice stops spreading across the room.

"Arclight, stop playing around and finish it," I hear the man say. He draws his gun and brings it to bear on me, then Hank pounces on him, the two tumbling over an overturned desk and to the floor.

The woman, Arclight, is distracted just long enough for me to hit her flush with a blast. She loses her footing but I don't let up, keeping the blast going and pushing her across the floor, through several pieces of debris, then out through the smoking hole she came in through. I've got no idea if she's down, but at least we've got some space to work with now.

Hank and the man are still wrestling with each other. I can't get a clear shot, so I rush over to try and peel them apart. The sound of gunfire rings out from the front of the building and I hear more screams and the sound of bullets ricocheting off of any number of things. I grab the man by the arm as he tries to punch Hank, catching him by surprise. Hank is able to use the opening to lay in a punch of his own. I'm thrown loose, then Hank kicks him off, sending him across the room and into the wall. Before he can regain his composure I level an optic blast on him that nearly puts him through the wall.

Hank and I quickly gather up Bobby and make our break for the door. I look over my shoulder just in time to see Arclight coming at us through the smoke. "Stop slacking, Scalphunter. You're getting beat by some rank amateurs," she says to the man in the wall.

We clear the doorway just as a barrage of metal objects fly through it, hammering Arclight and knocking her back again. Mr. Lansheer is standing there with the Professor behind him. I look over the area and see just how bad the situation is. There are wounded people everywhere. I'm certain I see more than one death.

"We have to get out here now," Mr. Lansheer shouts.

All of us begin making our way back towards the car when a group of police officers come around the corner leveling their guns at us.

"Stop right there!" one of them shouts, but frayed nerves prove to be too much. One of them opens fire and the other officers follow suit. Mr. Lansheer throws his hand up and bullets go in every direction, hitting dirt, concrete, brick, and something else.

"Professor!" Hank cries out. I wheel around as Mr. Lansheer throws each of the officer's guns back into their face, knocking them down.

Professor Xavier is laying in the dirt with Hank over him, holding his upper body. A small trickle of blood is running from his back as he winces and wrenches his arms around in pain. I take the full weight of Bobby on my shoulder. Mr. Lansheer reaches for the Professor and rips a bullet from his back, pulling it to his hand and holding it their, hovering.

"Charles, I'm….." he mutters, but isn't able to finish his sentence.

"Erick, we have to get him out of here. Professor, can you stand?" Hank says, trying his best to stop the bleeding.

"Ah-n-no, Henry. I don't think I can," Professor groins.

Hank lifts him up into his arms and we all begin to move again. All of us except Mr. Lansheer. I look back and see him standing over the fallen police officers, each one of them trying to back away from him as best they can.

"You humans and your guns," he mutters. Without effort, the bullet zips through the air, striking one of the officers square in face. I grimace and look away, trying to keep the bile from exploding from my throat. I can hear the bullet whizzing through the air, finding one target after another until it clatters to the pavement.

"Erick...what have you done?" Hank gasps.

"As always, Henry, I have done what is necessary," he says and starts moving towards us. I don't know what to do, but I know this isn't right. I can almost feel my world starting to completely fall apart.

We reach the car just as sirens start to scream towards us from the other end of the street. We don't have much time now. Suddenly there is a loud clunk that comes from the hood of the car. I look up and see what looks like an energy spear sticking out of it, glowing white hot. A few hundred feet away I see another man sneering menacingly. I don't get a good look at him before something erupts right beneath me. I feel the force of the blast throw me, feel something hit my head harder than anything I could ever imagine, then the world goes black.

* * *

When I come to, everything is black. I panic for a moment only to realize my hands and legs have been strapped down. I cry out for someone, fear gripping me at my core. I can't open my eyes. It's like they've been glued shut.

"Scotty, calm down!" I hear a familiar voice call out from the darkness. "It's okay, Scott. You're back at the Institute."

It's Hank. Relief washes over me as I stop struggling against my ties.

"Hank, thank God. What happened?"

He pauses longer than I'm comfortable with, then I feel him start to loosen my straps.

"I'm going to untie you, but you have to leave your eyes alone. Don't touch them," he says, a grim tone in his voice.

"What? Why?"

"You suffered a head injury in the explosion. The full extent of the damage isn't really clear yet, but it appears that you've...lost control of your powers."

I feel my stomach drop through the floor.

"What do you mean lost control?" I ask him, using all my willpower to not pry whatever is covering my eyes off my face. "Are you saying I'm…...I'm blind?"

"No, Scott, but if you open your eyes even a little bit, your optic blast will fire. That's why your eyes are sealed shut."

"Will I…." I pause, trying to compose myself as best I can. "Will I get better?"

"It's still hard to tell, but-" he stops again. "It doesn't look like you'll ever fully heal, Scott."

EPILOGUE

Erick walks into the infirmary at the Institute, taking in what's left of his compatriots. Grief rips at him as he runs the events in Long Island back through his mind. It had all gone so badly. A mutant, or rather three of them, had attacked the police station while they were there. Things had gone crazy. By the time it was all over, twelve people had died and nearly a hundred had been injured. Many of them by the police trying to stop the harpoon wielding man who had attacked the crowd, but most of the damage had been done by the mutants themselves.

Erick, Charles and the students hadn't fared much better in the melee that followed. Scott had nearly been killed in the car explosion. Henry and Bobby were pretty seriously injured, so was Erick himself. Charles had been struck through the spine by a bullet, paralyzing him from the waist down. Much to Erick's dismay, it had been a bullet deflected by him.

He finds Charles in his bed sleeping lightly. His eyes open and his head turns as the visitor approaches.

"Charles, I am so sorry for what has happened to you," Erick says, grabbing Charles' hand to comfort him. Charles pulls it away.

"What you have done, Erick. Oh, what you have done."

"Yes, Charles. I've murdered. I did this to you. I put our students in danger. And we have all paid the price for that."

Charles huffs. "Some of us have paid much more than others."

Erick hangs his head knowing what he has to do now. It's been a long time coming, but he never thought it would happen like this.

"You must see now that war is coming, old friend," Erick says. "Whether it was intentional or not, we have made the first move. It won't be long before they come for us."

"No, Erick. We can still show them a better way."

"Dammit, Charles, your dreams lay dead in the graves of those twelve humans in Long Island. They now know they have a reason to fear us. It will only get worse from here."

Charles presses his head into his pillow as his eyes fill with tears.

"If you intend to start this war, then you must know that I will stand in your way. Can't you see past your anger and your fear for even a moment?" Charles pleads, but he knows it's too late. This is the moment he has been dreading for a long time.

"I'm leaving. I no longer have a place in your dead dreams, Xavier," Erick says. "I will do whatever it takes to deliver this world to our mutant brothers and sisters. The time of man is at an end."

"I'm not strong enough to stop you, Erick. But know this. The Xavier Institute will always stand up for those unable to stand up for themselves. If you try and make war, then you will be our enemy."

Erick turns to leave the infirmary. He looks around, hoping against hope that things never come to that.

"I'll see you on the battlefield, then, old friend," Erick says as he vanishes through the doorway.


	5. Part 5: Turning Point (June 1960)

I sit here on the shores of the Titicus Reservoir watching the waves and pondering at the sky. It feels as if a part of me has died. It has been a few months since Erick left the Xavier Institute, and it is beginning to set in just how much I miss him. My friend and colleague. The one person in this world that I thought I could trust with my dreams and ideals. Erick is right, I'm a fool. Or at least I have acted like one.

I sense Henry approaching. He worries about me now more than ever, but I try to ease his concerns as best I can. Since my...injury, my mental capacity has been severely diminished. It takes all of my will to keep the voices at bay, let alone have any measure of control over it. I look back on where I had risen to, how much my mastery of my powers had grown. To be cut this low only adds to the despair brought on by the loss of my legs.

"Professor, it's getting late. Are you ready to come in?" Henry asks. "Your nurse is getting a little worried about you being out here."

"Yes, very well," I mutter, taking one last look at the sun setting across the lake. Henry grabs the handles of my wheelchair and begins rolling me towards the house, up the bumpy dirt trail cut through the trees. We round a small bend in the path and crest a hill and the mansion comes into view.

There are so many memories within those walls. Most of them aren't pleasant. My father's death. My step-father's cruelty. Not to mention my step-brother, Cain. Those memories had been the reason I never came back to the house after I returned from Korea. Why I had purchased the brownstone that now sat empty in the city. Why I ever thought this house would be capable of creating fond memories I can't fathom.

"Henry, I want you to gather the other students for an assembly in the morning. We have much to discuss."

"I'll get them together, Professor."

We get as far as the side door before my nurse, Gabrielle, is chiding me about being out by the water. She gives me the full lecture on what someone in my condition should and should not be doing as she has a dozen times since she arrived at the Institute. I let her go through her speech as I always do.

"It's getting late. I think I'd like to go to bed," I tell her.

"Mr. Xavier, it's barely past eight," she says looking at the clock on the wall.

"Then please retire me to my study, Ms. Haller. I'd like to be alone for a bit."

She pushes me into what now passes for my study. The mansion isn't equipped with any wheelchair ramps or elevators, so the upper floors have become inaccessible to me. I had Henry and Jean move my things into one of the downstairs bedrooms so that I could be surrounded by my work, even if there wasn't much work going on here anymore. At the assembly in the morning I intend to inform the students that the Xavier Institute is closing.

"I'll be back in to check on you in a bit before I leave for the night," she says as she pushes me around my desk.

"That won't be necessary, ma'am. Feel free to take off early tonight," I tell her, knowing what the response will be.

"Whatever you say. I'll be back in about an hour."

She leaves the room and closes the door behind her. I survey the room, looking at all the displaced items that didn't really have a home in this makeshift space. My eyes rest on Cerebro piled up in the corner collecting dust. I had been so excited for this piece of equipment, and Henry had worked so hard on getting it together. But after my experience with it that first time, I was terrified of what it might do to me. What impact it might have on my mind. What I might come into contact with out there. Despite the constant pestering of Henry I had never even turned it on since then. It was just useless metal and parts, now.

"Well, Charles. This is it," I tell myself. I am prepared to make this my last night in this forsaken mansion. Once I leave this time, I plan on never returning. I think I may even have it torn to the ground just to prevent me ever getting any wild ideas in the future. My mind wanders to my students. I do wonder what will become of them, but they have been given the tools to survive in the world now. Besides, without Erick I'm hardly capable of protecting them from anything. They'd likely be better off on their own now.

Then I feel something. Something I haven't felt in months. I feel the nurse, Gabrielle Haller, working on cleaning up the restroom down the hall. She's quite dissatisfied about something, then it happens. Her mind opens up to me like a flower. I want to look away, to shut her out, but I can't. I once took for granted this ability, and now I've been without it for so long I couldn't possibly deny it. I look inside, and realize that her dissatisfaction stems completely from me. I see myself through her eyes and it nearly breaks my heart. Angry, bitter, and stubborn. Shame washes over me.

If I can read her thoughts, I wonder if I can stretch my mind to the other parts of the house. I slowly scan the halls and corridors, feeling for my student's minds. I find one, and quickly realize that it is Warren Worthington. He is struggling with his place in the world. He hasn't had anything like a normal life in years, and in that time he has been cut off from anyone outside of the walls of this school. His shame at his appearance becomes mine. This is my doing. I've hidden our angel away from the world because of his obvious mutation. I didn't want anyone finding us out, and anyone who saw his broad white wings would surely know what he was. How could I be so cold to a child? Did I learn nothing from my experience with Moira all those years ago? Hiding what we are may keep us safe, but it can't come at the cost of living.

I leave Warren and almost immediately find Bobby Drake in the room next door. He is our newest and youngest member here at the Institute. He's barely even gotten his feet underneath him and I am about to uproot him again. His control over his abilities is raw and still very tied to his emotions. In that regard, Bobby needs me as much as any of the others here. I've hardly spent any time with him since he came onboard due to the injury. He is scared and alone and missing his family. I had Henry reach out to them in the aftermath of Long Island, but they seemed happy to have him off their hands. They didn't want the kind of trouble having a mutant son would cause them. It was hard not to hate them for that. Bobby is still struggling with it. He needs a place to belong.

Next I find Henry working away at something in the lab. He has rarely left that room in the past few months. He wasn't prepared for what happened in Long Island, and it had left a mark on him. Scott and I were both lucky he was there, though. His first aide is the only thing that saved either of our lives. I pry just a little, trying to discover what it is he's been working on. Glasses? Not exactly. Ah, yes, a visor. Something for Scott to help him control his powers. Ruby quartz? Why Henry, that's brilliant. I can feel his love for his friend in his efforts. I can also sense the indecision in the back of his mind. He wants to go on to continue his education, but he doesn't want to leave the Institute. He is conflicted on such a deep level, and I've been so blinded by my own ambitions for so long that I never even saw it before now. So consumed with my ongoing arguments with Erick that I had ignored what was happening to the others around me.

My thoughts leave Henry behind and work their way down to the den. I can feel Jean Grey there, listening to records and overcome with sadness. She knows what is happening around her. She has sensed my intentions. But there is something else, too. She has lost something. Scott. She has feelings for him. My God, I have been blind. I can also feel the mental blocks I put in place on the day I met the young girl. They have held remarkably well, but I can feel her true potentially swirling behind them. If those blocks ever failed, she may very well destroy herself. Could I really leave this child to that fate? Suddenly there is a wink of realization and I break contact. She felt me inside her mind. Her awareness is incredible.

I don't risk reestablishing contact with Jean, and instead move my mind down to the bedrooms where Scott is sitting on his bed. There is music playing and considering the circumstances he is relatively upbeat. This young man has never been anything but impressive. Even faced with the loss of his vision he has not lost his resolve. Despite everything, he believes in my dream as much now as he ever has. Here he is, over ten years my junior, but showing me personal strength and inspiring me to be better than I have been.

I sense through Scott someone else enter the room. It's Alex, his younger brother. What a tragic case Alex had been when we found him. Experimented on. Completely out of control. For a long time I had been forced to seal him away from the rest of the world to protect him, but eventually Henry and I had developed a containment suit for him. Something to keep his powers in check but still allow him to be a part of the world. I regretted how long that process had taken.

I move over to Alex, reading him. It is a bleak landscape. Where once he had felt kinship and love for his brother, there was now only jealousy and anger. It goes deeper than Scott and Jean's mutual infatuation, but that certainly is part of it. No, it's Scott's composure. His resolve. It hits me suddenly how completely opposite these two boys are. Alex's mind is filled with self doubt and loathing. He lives in constant fear of his powers. But there is a small glimmer of hope in his fear and his anger. What is that? Oh, they are talking now. The music has stopped. I focus my mind on them, trying to hear their conversation. It takes considerable effort, but I'm finally able to establish a connection.

"-anymore, Scott. You've got no idea what it's been like for me here," Alex is in the middle of saying.

"So this is your plan? To run away from the only place that we've been able to call home since Mom and Dad died?" Scott retorts angrily. Oh no, Alex, don't do this.

"Home for you, fearless leader. I've always just been your tag along."

"Is this about Jean? I've told you, I tried to keep my distance. But what did you want me to do, Alex? Not admit to myself that I like her?"

"No, it's not just Jean...it's...it's you! You're calm reserve. Your perfectly little boyscout routine. You aren't the same person you were when we were kids. This place has changed you."

"And it's changed you too, but I guess not for the better. Not like I thought."

Alex's mind becomes a scramble of emotions.

"Alex, without this place, without the Professor, we wouldn't even be alive. He helped you control your powers. He gave you a chance at life. You want to turn your back on that?"

"I won't live my entire life paying back that debt, Scott. I'm leaving, and I had hoped that maybe enough of my brother was still in there that you might come with me. Remember when it was us? Brothers till the end? What happened to that? Even after what happened to you on that stupid mission, you still want to be here?"

Scott takes a second to gather his words and measure them.

"Like you said, Alex. I guess we've both changed."

I flex my mind at Alex, trying desperately to stop him. I scratch and claw my thoughts at him, but I'm not strong enough yet. I sense him leave the room and begin making his way down the hall towards the side door nearest the road. He's going in the opposite direction from my study. I quickly break contact and frantically begin trying to wheel myself around my desk to the door, shouting for him to stop. My wheel catches on something on I tople to the ground.

I just lie there for a moment, taking in everything that I've just experienced. I have failed each of these students in some way. Been so singularly focused on my dreams that I've neglected to see what was going on right in front of me. Erick, you were right about me. I am a complete and utter fool.

* * *

The following morning Henry gathers the students in the primary classroom. I look over each of them one by one, reliving my failures all over again. They sit in silence as I look around the room, remembering all of the terrible moments these walls have seen.

"Where's Alex?" Warren asks finally.

"Alex has, unfortunately, decided to leave us," I answer, surprising Henry and Scott. Jean is unphased.

"His leaving is a culmination of my failures. And believe me, I have failed each of you in one way or another. I've kept you bottled up or I've asked too much of you. I've ignored your needs, losing sight of the important things while I was solely focused on the bigger picture."

"Bobby, you've barely been here two months and I've already failed you. Your powers are still so wild and out of check. I owe it to you to help you change that. To master your control."

"Jean, you have so much potential that you haven't even come close to realizing yet. You may be one of the most powerful mutants on the face of the Earth, but to realize that potential you will need guidance. I've been holding you back without realizing it, and that will change starting now."

"Warren. Oh Warren, I am so sorry. I have let my own fears prevent me from allowing you to live a life like the other students. I promised you a place to belong and I've made you question that. No longer. I can't keep the world from you. The world needs you and you need it."

"Henry, I haven't been there to guide you into the next stage of your life like I should have. I know that you are torn between the Institute and continuing your education. I have a few ideas that we can work with. Perhaps we can figure it out together."

"Also, I know that your experiences in Long Island were quite hard on you, and I haven't been there for you in that regard, either. You saved my life and I've been a miserable wretch ever since. For that I am more sorry than you know."

"Scott. I've cost you so much, but you still are steadfast in your faith in me. I haven't been worthy of that, but your resolve has inspired me."

"Students, I will not lie to you. I had intended to shut the doors to this place and put an end to everything we have built here. But I owe you all so much more than that. You have put your faith and trust in me and I haven't followed through on the promises I've made you. So I now come before you begging for a second chance. Let me be the man, the Professor, that you have expected me to be. Help me make this world a better place."

I hear all five of them agree with me before a word is spoken. Hank looks around the room at his fellow students, then puts a hand on Scott's shoulder, squeezing it gently.

"Professor," Scott says through a smile, "I think I speak for the team on this. We're with you, sir." Heads nod in agreement. I stop myself from getting too emotional so as not to spoil the moment.

"Excellent," I say after a brief moment of composure. "I will say this, though. Erick Lansheer was right about one thing. We must be prepared to fight. Not to war against humanity, but to protect them from our fellow mutants who would see them destroyed. We are going to show this world what mutants have to offer. We are going to show them the future that we can all believe in."


	6. Part 6: Parks and Rec (December 1960)

"Okay, Scotty. Let's see how these work," Hank says as he fits something over my eyes. It feels heavy and a little clunky, but I shouldn't complain. He's gone to great lengths to do this for me and I couldn't appreciate it more.

He puts his hands on my shoulders and spins me. I can smell the water of the lake. I can hear the gentle lapping of the waves on the shore.

"Is it safe?" I ask. I haven't opened my eyes in almost eight months and I have no idea what to expect to happen.

"It should be. The ruby quartz lense in the visor should refract your optic beam and make it inert," he says, reassuring me. "But just to be on the safe side, keep your eyes down towards the water."

I work up my nerves for a moment, hold my breath, then open my eyes. I'm prepared for the worst, but a wave of relief and surprise washes over me when nothing happens. My optic blast doesn't erupt from my eyes. I'm also amazed at what I see. My vision seems completely normal, but the color spectrum is mostly yellow tones. My emotions get the better of me and I wrap my arms around my friend.

"Oh, Hank! They work! Thank you for this," I say, choking back tears. I don't feel comfortable showing my emotions like this, but I just can't help myself.

"No thanks necessary, Scott. I'm just happy to help," Hank says, patting me on the back. "These are just a prototype. I have a few other designs that I'm working on. Something that isn't so obvious." I run my hand over the visor, feeling its bulk around my head.

After looking out over the lake for several minutes we finally start making our way back up to the house. I'm still adjusting to the yellow tint on everything, but it's certainly better than the blackness of the past months.

"Is there any way for me to use my powers with the visor on?" I ask as we walk up the path through the backyard.

"Not in this design, unfortunately. This one is more of a proof of concept, if you will," he responds, rubbing his hand through his hair nervously. "One of my other designs will have a toggle switch on it. If it works as planned, that is."

As we step up onto the porch I see Jean through the window sitting in the library joking with Warren. I stop in my tracks. This is the first time I've actually seen her face in so long that her beauty dawns on me like it's the first time all over again. Since the injury I know that she has gotten closer to Warren. I can't blame her, I haven't been the best of company, but I would be lying if I said I wasn't jealous of their budding friendship. Warren is a nice enough guy, I guess, but his rich kid demeanor could be a little off putting sometimes.

"Don't worry, Scotty," Hank says, noticing my hesitation. "Jean's still only had eyes for one teenage mutant heart throb." He laughs, claps me on the back and we head inside.

The clock chimes four o'clock as we enter the main hallway. Four o'clock means that Bobby and Hank have their training exercises while the rest of us have science class. I've been struggling through classes since the injury, but with the help of Hank and Jean I've managed to keep up well enough. I'm still on pace to get my diploma at this end of this term, so at least there's that.

"Tell Bobby hi for me, Hank," I say as he heads down the hall towards the Professor's office. I stand there alone for several minutes, taking in my surroundings like I'm seeing it all for the first time ever. If this experience has taught me anything, it's that I shouldn't take anything for granted. It could all be taken away from me in an instant. With that in mind, Jean leaps back into my mind. Why can't I bring myself to tell her how I feel about her? Does she know? I mean, she is a telepath. Isn't possible that she has already pulled my thoughts about her from my head? As if girls weren't hard enough to navigate, I'm having to cope with a mind reader, too. It's all so confusing.

"Scott, I see Henry's prototype was a success. I can't tell you how happy I am that you've been given your vision back," the Professor says as he comes down the hallway towards me. "How does it feel?"

"A little strange, sir. But considering the alternative I wouldn't dream of complaining. Hank is a genius for coming up with this."

"He truly cares for you, Scott. You're lucky to have such a good friend."

"Yeah, I am," I say, not sure what to say really.

"Well, are you ready for your science lessons?" he asks, gesturing towards the library.

"Yes, sir."

* * *

Life goes on as usual after that. We train, we learn, and we work on becoming a real team in our field exercises. Hank finishes his other designs and they are vastly improved from the prototype. One is as simple as a set of large lensed sunglasses for everyday wear. The other, though, is a much more impressive piece of equipment. Not only has Hank managed to get the size down to a manageable one, but the toggle works perfectly. Just by hitting a button on one of the ear pieces, the ruby quartz lense flips down, allowing me to unleash my optic blast.

Learning to use it effectively is a different matter altogether. For weeks I struggle with my accuracy and precision. Before, all I had to do was look at something and my blasts would go in that direction. Now, because of the loss of control, the blast just goes straight forward from the visor no matter where I'm looking. It feels like I'm starting all over again, that same scared fourteen year old sitting in a Seattle orphanage.

In this time I also help Hank and the Professor in reconstructing Cerebro, making it larger to increase its range. I hadn't been told anything about the device when it was originally built, but now the Professor had become much more open about these types of things. He had promised me that once it was operational again he'd help me track down Alex. I still hope that I can find him and bring him back to the Institute, but Alex can be difficult sometimes, and when he left he was pretty angry. He may not ever want to come back. I don't let on about it, but I miss him everyday.

I also watch as Warren and Jean grow closer and closer. It drives me crazy to see them together. Hank keeps telling me not to worry about it, but Warren has that natural charisma and charm that I just don't have. I can feel my resentment towards him growing despite my best efforts to not let things get to me.

It's a snowy winter evening when life at the Institute gets turned on its head. I'm working with Bobby on his physics homework when all of the students get a mental message from The Professor.

"Students, please join me in the den. Hurry, there is something that you all must see."

Bobby and I enter the den to find Hank and The Professor sitting in front of the TV. The evening news is on. Jean and Warren are close behind us. I leer at them from behind my glasses. My attention then shifts to the TV and I suddenly forget about the two of them.

"Earlier today, President Eisenhower held a special press conference on the White House lawn. The topic: the mutant menace and what steps need to be taken to ensure the safety of average Americans. We'll take you now to a recording of the president's speech this afternoon."

"It is with grim determination and resolve that we will solve the issue of mutants in these United States. With those values in mind, I announce the Sentinel Program."

The camera pans to a line of robotic figures, each one standing at least ten feet tall and armed with what looks like a gatling gun on each arm. I watch in stunned silence as the sentinel goes through its demonstration, gunning down targets and moving across the yard. It's clunky and a little slow, but those guns tear through their targets like paper.

"These sentinels are armed with the latest weaponry and technology, each controlled by a single operator via remote control. These Sentinels are designed for quick response to mutant threats and are the first line of defense against future threats from mutants. We won't allow there to be another Long Island."

The broadcast cuts back to the news desk and Hank flips off the television.

"My contact in the FBI warned me this morning about these Sentinels. They turned over all of his detailed files on mutant cases to the head of the Sentinel Program, a man named Bolivar Trask," The Professor explains.

"How many files did he have, Professor?" I ask.

"Agent Duncan provided me with over one hundred case files, but I'm sure he had more that he didn't share. It is entirely possible he had case files on us, as well."

"Did you see those things?" Bobby says frantically. "If those things show up here-"

"Then we will be ready for them, Bobby," Hank cuts him off. "We have been training for years to be ready for threats such as this."

"You have, but I've only been here for a few months! I'm not ready to go toe to toe with something like that," Bobby retorts.

"My primary concern, of course, is the safety of the Institute and you students," Professor says, preempting the conversation. "My second concern, however, is what the response to this announcement will be from mutants that don't share our ideal of peace."

He's talking about Mr. Lansheer. I had learned a lot about him since he had left the Institute, and while I certainly don't share in his views on human/mutant relations, I can't say that I completely disagree with him, either. Humanity is threatened by us. Of course they are going to try and strike first if there's going to be a war.

"It is imperative that we get Cerebro fully functional as soon as we can, Professor," Hank says. "We'll need it if we've any hope of finding Erick before he does something we'll all regret."

"I agree, Henry, we must double our efforts. In the meantime, Agent Duncan has also provided me with the location of the Sentinel Program's headquarters. Although that piece of information wasn't volunteered. If Erick, or anyone else, is going to attack these Sentinels we need to be ready."

"But doesn't it help us if those things are wiped out, Professor?" Bobby asks, and I can't help but agree with his point to some extent.

"Perhaps, but at what cost? How many lives would be lost in an attack? Both human and mutant. We must stand with humanity, show them that we aren't all to be feared."

"You want us to protect the Sentinels?" Warren exclaims with more than a little indignation. "Why would we do that?"

"Not protect them, Warren. Our mission is to stop mutants from taking actions that will set us back on our road to coexistence. It isn't an easy decision, but the correct decision seldom is. If a mutant attacks that facility, it is our duty to stand in their way."

My head is spinning at this point. I knew that this is what we were training for. That all of our work and preparation had been building to this moment, but it still feels so surreal. Here we are, a group of teenagers, and we are holding the responsibility of the future of the world on our shoulders. I certainly home we're up to the challenge.

* * *

The streets are buzzing in New York as Hank and I make the walk down Central Park West. It's midday in Manhattan and it is starting to get really cold.

The Professor had moved us away from the Institute the week before. The uncertainty about whether or not Agent Duncan had files on us made him nervous and he had thought it better to lay low in his brownstone in the city for a little while. It was a cramped space for so many of us to be sharing, which meant that while our studies were continuing, our training was on hold. At least for the most part.

Since our training wasn't progressing, Professor had decided to offer up different types of assignments, one of which was outreach. He had been pouring through his copies of the FBI files trying to find at risk mutants that we might could help. One had jumped out at him, mostly because she was so close by. He had originally assigned Warren to this instead of me, but then his wing harness broke and I had been chosen as his substitute. Which was fine by me, I always enjoyed my outings with Hank.

"I jeweler should be right up here on the corner," Hank said, pointing down the block a ways.

We're looking for a young girl named Kristie Nord. According to the file, her family had immigrated to the states just before she was born. A few years ago on a camping trip her parents and younger brother had been killed in a rockslide. Kristie was the only survivor and no other family. She'd ended up in a foster home. Her story feels like it parallels mine in so many ways that I can't help but feel a connection to her, even though we've never actually met.

The file listed her powers as being some form of rock manipulation, which had started to lead to some speculation that she might have been the cause of her family's death. Confronted with that possibility, she had run away. Since then, there have been reports of minor tremors around the Central Park area, and a local jeweler says a young girl matching Kristie's description has been trying to sell him diamonds. Professor thought that she might be using her powers to make the diamonds and trying to sell them. He wanted me and Hank to offer her a better option.

We find the jeweler at the corner of 100th street. It's nice, filled with more expensive things than I've ever seen in one place.

"Can I help you," a middle-aged man in a yamaka says, greeting us as we enter.

"Yes, sir. We're with the FBI. Just following up on some leads and we had hoped you might help us," Hank says. I do my best to stand up tall and straight, but I can't believe for a second this guy is going to think I'm FBI. I had been against this plan.

"The FBI is recruiting kids now, hm?" he says, scoffing a little.

"We're looking for this girl," Hank says, sliding the picture of Kristie across a glass counter to the man. It's the only one we have, pulled straight from the file. "We believe she may be in danger, and you reported seeing a girl matching her description."

The man looks at us sideways. He is buying this.

"Yes, I've seen that girl, but I know this. You two aren't FBI," he says. "Maybe you tell me the truth, huh? Who are you?"

"Sir, Kristie is a friend of ours. You're right, we aren't FBI, but we do think she might be in trouble. We just want to make sure she's okay," I say, taking control of the conversation from Hank. "Please, you said you've seen her?"

The man hesitates, and I think for a second that we have hit a dead end before we've really even gotten started. Then he seems to relent.

"Yes, I've seen her. She's been in a few times in the past few weeks. Keeps trying to sell me diamonds, but I don't know her. I don't buy from street kids. Stuff's probably stolen. That's trouble I don't need."

"Do you have any idea where she is? Where she might be getting the diamonds?" I ask.

"No, but every time I see her she's coming from the park. Goes back to the park when she leaves here, too," he says.

Hank and I look behind us through the windows of the shop. 100th street goes right into Central Park across the street. If The Professor's hunch is right, she's probably out there somewhere doing her best to hide. Central Park is huge. It could take us weeks to search the entire area.

We thank the jeweler and cross Central Park West into the park, making our way down what seems the most logical and direct path for someone to choose if they were headed in this direction.

"So where would she go?" Hank asks, his breath forming in the air like little clouds.

"Well, she still needs to eat. She would have to find some kind of shelter, especially with how cold it's getting now," I answer, but thinking aloud more than anything. "Where in the park could you hide and not be seen?"

We stop and spin around for a few minutes, taking in the views around us. It's a just a giant park. There's nothing to indicate which direction we should go.

"Hmm," Hank ponders aloud. "Perhaps we can narrow down our search. If Kristie does in fact have the ability to control rocks, would she not then be able to hide herself within rocks? Use her powers to create a shelter for herself?"

"Wouldn't that take a lot of control?" I ask, trying to follow along.

"Not necessarily," Hank answers. "If she has managed to move the rocks of the earth around her, I don't think it would be difficult for her to create a crude shelter of some sort."

"Okay, Hank, but if you're right then you didn't narrow down the search, you just doubled it. How do we check for what's under that ground and not just on the surface?"

"There is a fellow student at Columbia that may be able to help us," Hank says.

Hank then leaves me in the park to go and call his friend. He started at Columbia the following semester, but most of his class work had been done at the Xavier Institute under the guidance of Professor Xavier. Apparently The Professor had arranged something with the school to allow Hank to earn his degree while still living with us at the mansion for most of the semester. Hank had only gone to the campus a handful of times for tests and study sessions, but in those trips he had made a few friends.

It's nearly an hour later before I see Hank again. He has some type of equipment slung over his shoulder and he's beaming in that way where you know he's had a brilliant idea. Or at least idea he thinks is brilliant at the time. I shiver and stand up from the bench I had been seated at, watching the area of Kristie in case she tried to go back to the jeweler again.

"What's all this?" I ask, looking at the thing Hank is carrying.

"Why, Scotty boy, it's a seismometer," he says. "With this, we should be able to measure and locate the source of any seismic activity in the area."

"Of course!" I exclaim, getting the idea. "If Kristie is using her powers to move around the rocks in the park, then it should be detectable. Like a mini earthquake."

"Exactly correct. We just have to set up the device and wait for her to use her powers. It couldn't be simpler."

Simplicity, it turns out, isn't the same thing as quick and easy. Hank sets up the seismometer quickly enough, but then it becomes a waiting game. And wait we do. The sun is sinking below the buildings. We've been watching the seismometer for at least three hours now, and I've basically given up on Hank's theory being right. Turns out I'm not the only one.

"It will be dark soon," I finally say. "I think it's time to call this head back to the brownstone. Professor is probably wondering what's taking us so long."

"I suppose you're right," Hank sighs. "Perhaps she isn't even in the park. She could be miles away from here."

Suddenly the ground quivers beneath our feet, nearly knocking me to the ground. The readings on the seismometer are going off the chart. We had been expecting something small that we might not even be able to feel, not a full fledged earthquake.

"Oh my stars and garters!" Hank exclaims as the ground rumbles again.

"Which way?" I ask in a frantic tone.

Hank takes several minutes to look over the readouts, looking at spikes and measurements. The ground shakes several more times, getting a little stronger on the last one.

"Ah, east!" He says, pointing. Suddenly the sounds of gunfire ring out across the park. Not handheld pistols, but something much more powerful and fast. A machine gun. Probably a gatling, if I had to guess.

"Hurry!" I shout as I sprint towards the noise. People are scattering everywhere in the dusky light. There are screams and sounds of panic. Hank bounds past me, his shoes gone and running on all fours.

We run as hard as we can for what seems like forever. The ground keeps shaking, the sound of gunfire keeps filling the air. These long moments are filled with terror for me. Hank is ahead of me, and I can't help but wonder if his mind is racing as much as mine.

Finally we round a curve on East Street and we can see what is happening. The ground up ahead looks like it has been turned inside out. Pillars of stone reach up for the sky, rocks and rubble are scattered everywhere. And there, in the middle of all of that destruction, stands two purple Sentinel machines. I stop in my tracks, ducking into a bush and doing my best to catch my breath. Hank does the same a few dozen feet ahead of me.

Suddenly a new rock pillar juts up out of the ruined street just to the left of one of the Sentinels. It seems to stagger a little but doesn't fall over. The second robot opens fire on something I can't see, filling the air with the gunfire we've been hearing.

"On me, Hank," I shout and quickly make my way towards the two robotic terrors. They haven't noticed me yet, which is good. I'm going to need the element of surprise for what I have in mind.

Hank is right next to me now as we draw closer and closer to the Sentinels. Once we are close enough, we duck down again and try to get a better view.

"See those wires at the base of the neck?" I ask, pointing to the closest Sentinel. "Do you think you can get to those and yank them?"

"Possibly, but the other is bound to spot me."

"Let me worry about that," I say, hoping to sound confident.

The two robots shuffle around a particular area, seemingly trying to locate something. Finally I'm able to make out what it is. Kristie Nord is there, mostly encircled by a little sphere of rock. Every time one of the Sentinels is able to get an angle on her, she throws her rock sphere up and deflects their bullets, which tear chunks of the sphere off.

"It looks like she's struggling with control," I say as a new pillar of rock shoots up. I can tell that each effort is a strain on her. Suddenly our eyes lock and I can see her lose her concentration. One of the Sentinels is almost on her position, there isn't much time now.

"Go, Hank, now!" I scream.

Hank leaps through the air and lands heavily onto the shoulders of the nearest Sentinel, causing it to pitch forward slightly and stumble. The machine regains its feet and tries to wheel around, but can't reach Hank, who is frantically tearing at and pulling on whatever he can get his hands on.

The second robot turns its attention away from Kristie and focuses on its partner. The machine whirls slowly towards Hank, pulling its machine gun upwards to get a lock on my friend. Everything seems to be running in slow motion now.

"Now or never, Scott," I say to try and calm myself.

I stand up from my cover and ripped the ruby quartz glasses off of my face, unleashing the full force of my optic blasts. The concussive force pours from my eyes, striking the second Sentinel in the hip joint and causing it to buckle. The gatling gun fires wildly, spraying an arc of bullets across the park as it struggles to maintain an upright position. I move the beam up the machine's torso, bringing it to full bear on its chest plate. The change in impact location is more than it can adjust for. The Sentinel spins around, pieces flying from its construction. The spin brings my blast into contact directly with the shoulder joint, blowing the left arm clean off of it. In a shower of parts, the Sentinel crashes to the ground. I close my eyes and put my glasses back on.

Hank finally finds purchase somewhere in his target's neck and pulls as hard as he can. There is a loud pop and grinding noise, then Hank rips a bundle of cables from the neck of the Sentinel which then collapses. Powerless.

I see Kristie turn to run but fall to the ground. She seems exhausted, tears stream down her face. I reach her just as she collapses.

"Don't worry, we've got you. We're here to help," I say, supporting her weight. She doesn't say anything, just holds on to me and passes out.

Hank and I make a hasty retreat from the area. It won't be long before police and news crews show up and we don't need to be around for any of that. The park is a ghost town. All the people fled when the shooting started, but a line of people have formed along the outer edge of the park to get a look at what is happening. It's easy for us to blend into a group of late escapers and vanish into the crowd.

* * *

Kristie sleeps for two days in the extra bedroom of the brownstone, only waking long enough to eat a little bit. For some reason I feel compelled to keep an eye on her. To make sure she's okay. I don't hover, but I do check in regularly.

News of the event in Central Park spreads quickly. The authorities are claiming that mutants attacked the park and that the Sentinels had been deployed to stop them, but obviously that wasn't what happened. Until Kristie wakes up, we won't get the entire story, but most likely the Sentinels hunted her down and attempted to execute her, but got more than they bargained for.

It's late in the second day of her being with us when I check in and find her sitting up in the bed. She looks tired still, but better. She smiles when she sees me.

"Hi," she says.

"Hey," I manage in response. I can't help but notice how pretty she is, and then it occurs to me that since Hank and I rescued her I've barely even thought about Jean.

"Are you feeling better?" I ask her as I sit down in a chair next to the bed.

"Yeah, a little bit. Thanks to you and your friend," she says. "Scott, right?"

"Yeah," I say and pause for a little longer than feels comfortable. "I'm glad you're okay. It's good that we showed up when we did I guess."

She turns and looks out the window at the city. Snow is starting fall. There is a loneliness in her face that I know all too well. I've seen that look on my brother and I've seen it in the mirror. It's the kind of loneliness that you don't understand unless you've lost the people that are most important to you.

"Why did they come after me? How did they even know where to look?" she asks, tears starting to form in her eyes.

"I'm not really sure, Kristie, but for now you're safe. Professor Xavier will take care of you. He's taken care of all of us. You don't have to be afraid anymore. You're not alone, now."

She brushes her blonde hair out of her face and tries her best to smile through her tears. My heart breaks for her. I know how scared she must be.

Before I can say anything to her Professor Xavier enters the room with Hank.

"Kristie, I am so pleased to see you finally back among the living," Professor says. "I see you've met Scott. This is Henry McCoy, and I am Professor Charles Xavier."

"Hi, Professor Xavier. Henry," she says.

"Kristie, I'd very much like to tell you about my dream."


	7. Part 7: Sewer Rats (August 1961)

The tension in the house is palpable. We've been crammed in here for months now, doing our best to keep up with our studies and do what training we can in the small space, but things are about to come to a head.

I've also decided that despite my best efforts, I don't like Warren Worthington very much. It isn't just the relationship with Jean, I'm mostly over that. No, it's his overall attitude. His snobby personality. Sometimes I just want to punch him in his smug nose.

Then there's Kristie. I still have feelings for Jean, but since Kristie joined the Institute we've been spending a lot of time together, and we actually have a lot in common. We both lost our families, we both spent time in foster homes, and we both struggle with controlling our powers. Besides that, she is really cute in that kind of way that makes it easy for me to talk to her. I'm not really sure what to make of the way I feel, but I know she's important to me.

Also, Hank has been spending more and more of his time on the Columbia campus, attending classes and hanging out with his college friends. I know he's still my best pal, but he's living a phase of his life that I can't be a part of. I finished my high school level courses in the spring, so I could join him, but college doesn't seem like a great fit for me. I've instead been throwing myself into the operations of the Xavier Institute, becoming the Professor's right hand in Hank's absence. I know Hank is just getting out of the house to get away from the tension, but a lot of times I miss him.

Bobby and I have started to become friends in the past few months, but he is still a couple of years younger than me, so there are things that he can't do and things he can't really relate to that I'm going through. In a lot of ways he's still just a kid and I'm becoming an adult.

So I find myself sitting with the Professor in his study as I so often am, going through news reports and some of the FBI files that we acquired from Agent Duncan. After what happened in Central Park around Christmas, Professor became much more selective in our outreach program. We had pursued several of the files that seemed lower risk, but nothing had paid off since Kristie. Some had just been impossible to track down while others...well, the Sentinels had beaten us to some of them.

I glance over at Cerebro sitting in the corner. We had moved it with us from the mansion, but something wasn't working correctly. Hank had done what he could with it, but until we moved back to the house it probably wasn't going to get finished. Which is too bad, because it might give us the edge we need in finding and helping other mutants.

"Do you have something to share, Scott?" Professor asks me out of the blue.

"No, not really. I feel like I've been through these files a hundred times, already."

"I mean do you have something you wish to discuss with me," he clarifies. "I know something is bothering you. Do you want to talk about it?"

I don't say anything for a moment. I just stare blankly at the file I have open on the desk. There are plenty of things I want to say, but I try to keep things to myself unless they are important. My personal feelings never seem important enough to share.

"Well, sir," I finally manage, "I honestly just can't help feeling like we aren't doing enough."

"How so, Scott?"

"It's like we're always a step behind. We've gone through these files and come up empty. News reports only tell us about what's already happened. Cerebro doesn't work and your range without it isn't wide enough to give us much to go on."

I try my best to measure what I'm about to say. I've been thinking about it for a long time now, I just haven't brought it up. I guess now is the time, since he asked.

"What would you suggest, then?" he presses me, his tone giving away nothing.

"Sir, I think we need to get proactive." I shift in my seat, closing the file. "We know that the Sentinel Program has all these files, maybe even more on top of them. I think we should do something about that."

"Scott, we've talked about this in the past. An open assault on the Sentinel headquarters would be an act of war. We have to show them a better way, not match their hostility with our own."

"Well, but see, sir, that's the thing. I don't think we need to attack the Sentinels. I think, maybe, we could do something covert. Sneak into their compound and steal the files. Or at least destroy them."

He stays silent for a few moments as he contemplates what I've said. I can see his wheels turning, trying to think of a response or maybe even considering the plan. Unfortunately I'm not the mind reader in the room right now.

"Who would you send on this mission?" he asks me finally.

"I think Hank, myself, and….and Jean, sir."

"Why Jean?"

"Her mental powers could help us navigate the complex and warn us when someone is nearby. Plus her telekinesis would come in handy if we did have to force our way through something. Or someone, I guess."

"Scott, your plan is not without merit, but it is too dangerous."

"With all do respect, Professor, what's the point of all the training if we aren't going to use it?" I say, a little bit of heat in my voice. I'm surprised at how forcefully I said that.

"Point well taken," he responds. "Let me consider it, won't you? I don't want to make such a decision without weighing all of the risks."

"Um, sure," I say. I'm more than a little shocked that he would even consider it.

* * *

A few days later there is a frantic knocking on the door of the brownstone. It's getting late into the evening and everyone was doing their own thing. I answer the door as the others enter the foyer, all curious as to what is going on.

The man standing on the steps of the brownstone is frightful in appearance. His skin is pasty and white, his eyes larger than they should be, and from what I can tell he doesn't have a stitch of hair on him. He is wearing a cheap purple suit that has seen better days, the ends frayed and tearing. He pushes his way through me and into the foyer as the others all back pedal to avoid him. He whirls around and looks at me.

"Please, you must help Caliban. Caliban is in trouble!" he says, grabbing at my shirt as the Professor rolls into the room. "They have found Caliban!"

"Who's Caliban?" I ask, trying to get his hands off of me.

"Caliban is me," he says. "The machines, they come for me! I could sense you here all together. Strength in numbers, I thought you could protect me!"

"Caliban, what machines?" the Professor asks. "Do you mean-"

Before he can finish the question the front door explodes into a hail of splinters and bullets. I instinctively dive away from the door, taking Caliban off his feet with me. I can hear the others screaming and going into a panic. The Professor crashes to the floor beside me.

"Mutant target, remain where you are," a voice says. It sounds like it's being piped through a speaker. "You are under arrest."

I pull myself to my feet and see three Sentinels standing in the street outside the brownstone. Fear grips me for a brief second, then there is a clicking sound that seems to be coming from one of them.

"Additional targets acquired. Mutant Kristie Nord and mutant Scott Summers identified," the middle machine says. I back up and feel Kristi grab on to my arm.

"Stay back," I tell her, grabbing the Professor by his shirt and helping him pull himself away from the Sentinels.

All three of them swing their gatling gun arms into position. There is a brief whirring sound, then an explosion of gunfire as all three unload into the brownstone. Everyone stumbles backwards, and as I hit the ground I fully expect bullets to be tearing through us. I hear glass shattering, wood splintering and stones toppling as the front of the brownstone is pulverised by the gatling guns, but nothing ever hits me. Or anyone else. Finally the gunfire stops and I look up.

Jean is standing in front of all of us, one hand outreached towards the Sentinels. Hundreds, maybe even thousands of bullets are just hanging in the air, held there by some invisible force. I've seen Jean use her telekinesis before, but this level of control is astonishing to me.

I watch as she flicks her wrist and draws the bullets into a single cluster, then fling them in unison into the middle robot. Bullets hitting against metal plating fills the air, clanging and pinging. I take the opportunity to get the drop on the right Sentinel, unleashing an optic blast that strikes it directly in the forehead and sends it toppling backwards. Jean then throws her second hand up and focuses her telekinesis into one massive push that flings the middle Sentinel into the building on the opposite side of the street.

The third manages to get off a more devastating shot, however. From its shoulder, a missile of some type launches towards us. Jean's focused on her target and I'm sure I can't get it with an optic blast. It strikes what's left of the entryway of the brownstone and erupts into a ball of fire, smoke and debris. Jean gets a protective field up just in the knick of time, but the concussive force still knocks all of us back. Jean bounces hard against the pillar and goes limp.

"Warren, get Jean and the Professor out the backdoor and to the escape tunnel," I shout, pulling myself to my feet again. Kristie is right beside me. "Kristie, Bobby, you're with me. We need to hold it off long enough for Warren and the others to get away."

Suddenly there is the sound of heavy feet clanging down the street. Three more Sentinels come into view as the one that fired the missile starts to clumsily make its way up the steps. I hit it with an optic blast to try and knock it over, but it steadies itself and fires a spray of bullets at us that forces us all to duck for cover.

The ground begins to shake and I look over at Kristie, her faced locked with grim determination. Rock spikes explode from the steps and impale the Sentinel through the torso and left leg. It is stuck there but still operational, trying to find a target to lock on to. I finish it off with a well placed blast to the neck that severs the head.

"Bobby, ice the street!" I shout as I see Warren kicking his way through the backdoor and out into the alley. He cries out as a spray of bullets rips through the alleyway towards him. More Sentinels in the back. Bobby finally lays a sheet of ice under the feet of the three approaching from the front, causing them to slip and slide enough to give us some space to move.

Warren backpedals away from the door.

"We're cut off," he says. "There's four more in the alley! Where do we go?"

"Caliban knows a place!" Caliban says. I had forgotten he was even here. "If we can get to the sewers, Caliban can show you!"

"Kristie, can you get us down into the sewers?" the Professor asks. "Focus your mind, child. Open the ground beneath us."

"I'm not sure if….." she says, hesitating. "I'll give it my best, Professor."

The ground immediately starts to shake. Bobby does his best to freeze the Sentinels in the street, locking their feet in place to the ice sheet he had laid down. They are immobile, but those guns on their arms are still dangerous. I try and hit them with a few optic blasts, but getting a clear shot on unstable ground proves to be hard. I hit the buildings behind them more than anything.

There is a loud crunching sound as the alley Sentinels begin ripping through the backdoor, boxing us in. The ceiling of the brownstone is shaking and cracking, now. Parts of the molding are falling. Finally, with a loud popping sound, the floor opens up into a deep hole. Unprepared, Caliban tumbles down into it, landing hard on the stones below. I can see the sewer beneath us, but it's still too far to jump. The hole is getting bigger, the walls start leaning in towards us. The back of the brownstone collapses suddenly, burying the one Sentinel that was almost through the door and slowing down the others that are out there. The street cracks and opens up, causing the three Sentinels there to fall into it in a pile of machinery.

Then it's as if the floor just drops out from under us and I feel myself falling for what feels like a long time. I hit something hard and go into a roll, landing in a puddle of what I can only hope is water. Rocks and debris fall all round me, as well as Bobby, who lands next to me in the puddle. Above us I see Warren gliding towards us with Jean and the Professor. He lands hard into the sewer tunnel, but it could have been much worse.

"Where's Kristie?" I ask, looking around for her. Then I look up and see her still above us, sliding down the hole on a sled of rock and stone. She waivers for a moment, then topples down. I manage to get under her and break her fall.

"You have to close the hole," I say as she lands on top of me. Without saying a word, she waves her hand and the gap begins to inch closed. A Sentinel appears at the top, looking down at us. A wave of ice and frigid air rushes up the chasm and hits the machine, frosting it and causing it to stagger just a little. It's shift in weight causes the rim to cave in, and suddenly the entire robot is crashing down towards us.

"JEAN!" I hear someone yell. The Sentinel seems to stop in mid air, parts snapping off of it at the sudden break in momentum. Finally, in one last ditch push, Kristie slams the hole closed, crushing the Sentinel and sealing their path to follow us.

I drag myself up and move to Caliban, grabbing him by his ragged suit jacket and pushing him against the stone wall of the tunnel.

"Who are you?" I demand, shaking him. "How did you find us?"

Caliban looks terrified at the sudden turn in violence against him. I feel the Professor in my mind, trying to calm me.

"Caliban was in trouble. Caliban can sense other mutants. Follow them. Find them. I had nowhere else to go. Nowhere to hide, then I felt all of you."

"So you thought you'd just try and get us all killed?" I shout back.

"Scott, please calm yourself," Professor says.

"Let him go," Kristie says, taking my arm in her hands. I look at her, look at the emotions in her eyes. Something about her calms me. I hesitate for a second, then release my hold on Caliban.

"You said you knew of a place in the sewers. Somewhere we could hide?" Professor continues, talking to Caliban now.

"Yes, there is a place. Caliban goes there sometimes. It is for those like us. Mutants."

"Take us there," Professor demands.

* * *

Everyone is a little roughed up, but luckily none of our injuries are worse than scrapes and bruises. Considering the tight spot we were in, I'd say we just experienced a real life miracle.

We move through the sewers for a while, heading in what seems like a generally southern direction, but with no view of the sky or our surroundings beyond the sewer walls, it's entirely possible I've gotten turned around. We could be anywhere under New York City at this point.

Finally we arrive in a particularly large tunnel. It's dry and seems to be in a state of disrepair. Most likely it's a decommissioned part of the sewers, a place where maintenance crews don't spend any time. We are greeted by a large, misshapen man. His face is twisted, his shoulders misaligned, and he doesn't have a single bit of air on his head. His features cause a great uneasiness in my stomach, and I can tell by the looks of the others that I'm not the only one. Warren in particular seems repulsed.

"Caliban, who are these outsiders?" the man says, blocking our path into the tunnel.

"They saved Caliban. Now they need to hide."

"Hrm," the man groans. "Callisto will not be happy, Caliban. Outsiders are not welcome here. You knew this."

"Please, Sunder. Caliban owes them his life."

"What is going on out here?" a woman's voice calls out. She appears from behind a ragged curtain. Her face is heavily scarred. She has a patch over one of her eyes. "Who is it that you've brought to my doorstep, you little wretch?"

"Ca-Ca-Callisto," Caliban stammers. "Please! They are mutants. Like us."

Callisto takes a few moments and sizes us up as I do the same to her. She's lean and I bet she can move as quick as lightning. Her tattered jeans look like they'd be better of in the trash, but she has a leather vest on that looks decent enough. I wonder what she's hiding under it. I immediately don't trust her.

"You may be mutants, but you aren't like us," she finally says. "Get them out of here, Sunder."

"Madam, if I may have a word," the Professor speaks up. Callisto whirls around on him and glares with her one eye.

"My name is Charles Xavier, and we are indeed mutants. We mean you and your people no harm. We simply need to rest and then we will be on our way."

"You call yourselves mutants, but look at you. So beautiful. So normal looking. Tell me, what price have you paid for your gifts, Charles Xavier?"

"I may seem like an average human being judging by my appearance, but I assure you that I have paid a heavy price for my gifts. All of us have."

Finally Callisto locks her eye on Warren and her entire demeanor seems to change.

"Ah, now this one," she says, stepping towards him. "You know our pain, don't you child. What it feels like to not blend in. To not be able to hide in plain sight like your so called friends here."

Warren pulls away from her.

"Lady, I may stick out like a sore thumb, but I can promise that I'm nothing like you," he says, almost sneering. His words strike hard, but I can tell he doesn't mean them completely. Warren, more than any of us, doesn't blend into a crowd. It's something that I know has always eaten at him in some way.

"I'll make a deal with you, Xavier," Callisto says, eyeing Warren. "You can have safe passage through our tunnels, but in exchange you give me this winged boy to have as my own."

"What?!" Warren shouts.

There is a commotion as all of us ready to blast our way through these sewer people and back to safety, but a voice rings out in our heads and stops us from making the first move.

"Callisto, you know that is unreasonable," Professor says. "But I will make a deal with you."

"Keep talking," she says, smiling.

"The combined powers of myself and my students here would be more than enough to not only remove you as an obstacle, but to also bring this tunnel down around your ears. I understand that you need to protect the people who reside here, but understand that I will protect my own charges, and they will protect each other and themselves."

"So you wish to threaten me, is that it, Xavier?" she shouts, ripping a knife from a pocket hidden in her vest. I knew it!

"No, Callisto, you misunderstand," Professor replies calmly. "I am offering you a chance to keep your people safe and to allow us passage through your tunnel. If you don't harm us, no harm will come to you."

"Callisto, Caliban has seen what they can do!" Caliban chimes in. "They can manipulate the stone of the tunnels. One can move anything with her mind. This one has deadly beams that shoot from his eyes," he continues, pointing to me as he says the last part. "They are very powerful."

Callisto contemplates the offer for a moment, then returns the knife to her vest.

"Very well, Xavier. Sunder will see you through our tunnels, but know this. If you ever show your face in my home again, I'll carve you from ear to ear."

"No, Callisto, you won't," Professor says.

"Sunder, get these outsiders out of my tunnel."

* * *

Sunder escorts us all the way through the large abandoned tunnel, then down a narrower duct that seems to run straight for miles. After a few minutes of heading down this duct we come to a crossing and the water flow picks up significantly. It isn't so much that we can't keep our footing, but whatever parts of us that had dried since falling into the sewers was now getting wet again.

"Go straight down here and eventually you'll get to the river," Sunder says, pointing on down the duct. "There's a grate over the end. I'm sure you can manage to remove it with all of your impressive powers."

With that he turns and goes back, leaving us alone to finish our journey. It is a long, miserable hike. We move in a straight line for nearly an hour, trudging through the water and brushing against the narrow, slimy walls. We take turns helping the Professor, keeping him as upright as we can. It's a hard trek, but we do finally reach a metal grate that looks out over the river. Without much effort, Jean uses her telekinesis to rip it free from the stonework. It crashes down into water below. We stand at the edge and measure the drop. It's a good twenty feet down to the water, which sits in a large tunnel that opens out into the Hudson a few dozen feet away from our current location.

One by one we drop, Kristie going first, me right behind her. Then Warren drops with the Professor, using his wings to fly him out to the open air. Bobby and Jean then take their turns, Jean using her telekinesis to help us along in the water once we are all together.

Finally, soggy and exhausted, we pull ourselves up onto the shore. We're pretty far north, but I volunteer to go up to the street to get our location. The sun is starting to come up, and I think back to when our adventure began in the late hours of last night. It's got to be close to eight in the morning now and none of us have slept.

I flag down a guy driving a VW bus and do my best to explain our situation without giving away too many important details. He reluctantly agrees to give us a ride north, but once the Professor is within range he subtly convinces the man to take us straight to the mansion. Professor's powers still aren't up to their full potential, but he's getting there.

It's nearing midday when the bus pulls up in front of the Institute. None of us have seen this place in months, but it looks like we never left. As the man pulls away the Professor reaches out and wipes his memories of the trip, ensuring that he can't tell anyone about the ride he gave us. Gabrielle Haller meets us at the door, the Professor's former nurse. I guess she's been keeping an eye on the place since we left. Hank is there, too. He returned as soon as he heard about what had happened. He'd only just beaten us there.

That night, after we have all had a chance to settle in and get some much needed rest, the Professor, Hank and I meet in the library just the three of us.

"Scott, Henry, I think we need a change in strategy," Professor says, starting the conversation.

"It is now deadly clear how much of a threat these Sentinels pose to the mutant population. I had hoped that their function was to protect and serve the people, but it is obvious to me now that they are being used to systematically exterminate our kind.

"Scott, you said you had some ideas about how to get into their headquarters. To remove or destroy whatever files they have there."

"Yes, sir. I've been working on a way to get in with minimal contact," I say, surprised at where this is going.

"Very well. I think it's time I hear this plan. But understand this. Our mission is not the files anymore," Professor says. "Our mission now is to disable these mechanical monsters entirely."

EPILOGUE

It is a warm and rainy day in Philadelphia as Erick looks on at the spectacle across the street from his location. Teenagers from the surrounding area gather here every week at the same time hoping for a chance to dance on this television show while the most popular bands of the day play their music. Even better, the broadcast is a live feed and one of the most popular hours of television currently airing. It's a perfect target.

As the doors close and the last of the lucky teenagers are given permission to enter, Erick begins to make his move. There are two sturdy bouncers at the door. Both are easily dispatched with a car flung through the air and smashing them into the wall of the studio. The teenagers and people still on the street scatter in every direction. Erick waves his hand, pushing the car clear of the door, then yanks the doors themselves open.

Once in the studio, Erick magnetically seals the building. No one will be getting in or out of this place until his objective has been achieved. The band on stage pauses at the sight of him. Erick grabs every bit of metal on the stage and batters the band with it, knocking them all about. He then turns his attention to the host of the show and rips the microphone from his hand.

Chaos erupts in the small studio. Everyone person at once tries to get out, finding the doors impossible to open. Erick turns the unmanned cameras to him, holds the microphone to his mouth, and begins.

"What you will see here today is but a glimpse of my power. However, this demonstration comes with a message. Humanity's time has come to an end. Your betters have arrived to replace you. This world now belongs to the mutants.

"I give you this one chance. Turn over power to us and the transition will be peaceful. I will allow humanity to go quietly into that good night. You have thirty days to meet this demand, or I promise you that war will come, and it will be a war that you cannot win.

"To my fellow mutants; consider this a call to arms. You have been hunted, feared, beaten and killed for nothing more than being born different. Better. This can not be allowed to stand. I offer you a world built for you and your brothers and sisters. The Brotherhood of Mutants. I offer you a chance to stand beside me as we take what is rightfully ours.

"As to what is about to happen, hear this, humans. Your Sentinels have hunted and killed our children in their beds. Executed them for the crime of being your superior. You have allowed your fear to justify atrocities. Consider today retribution. You have killed our children, now I will kill yours.

"I, Magneto, will bring justice to this world!"

With that, Erick reaches out for every piece of metal in the studio that he can find. His senses are stretched to their limit, but after only a moment he has everything he needs. The steel beams of the building. The satellite dish and broadcast equipment. The pipes and cables in the walls. With one mighty flex of his powers, he draws all of it towards him. The building shakes and moans at the stress, trying desperately to maintain it's integrity, but it is no match for his powers.

With one last pull, the building implodes. There is a sudden chorus of screams as the people in the building cryout, then are suddenly silenced. Erick holds the wreckage for a moment, gathering his focus. He then pushes outward with his magnetic powers, turning the imploded building into a shrapnel bomb that rips through the surrounding area, causing untold amounts of damage.

Satisfied with his work, Erick levitates himself out of the wreckage and hovers off.

Magneto is born.


End file.
